Imagine that you don’t know how to play the guitar but have somehow procured three guitars.
Imagine that you imagine you are going to teach not only yourself but your three tiny children to play guitar.
Imagine restringing the three guitars even though you have no idea if you’re doing it correctly.
Imagine tuning the three guitars with the help of a jabbering 5-year-old, a screeching 2-year-old, and a bubbling 8-month-old.
What is the intention here, you might ask?
Imagine me and my kids in denim skirts and bolo ties, hitting the road to sing and play country gospel in small towns across America.
No, that’s not it.
Imagine me imagining that knowing how to play guitar opens some sort of doorway in life. That you can teach yourself to do anything if you can teach yourself to play guitar. That you can make friends with anybody and be comfortable in any situation if you can play guitar. That being able to make music — for yourself and for others, on the guitar or on the piano or with your voice or with a drum — is a crucial life skill.
Imagine that if you can give them the gift of music, you’ve really have given them something… a gift they’ll be able to take anywhere and bring out anytime… rich or poor, in good times and bad times… for the rest of time.
Imagine me actually reaping the fruit of these mommy-and-me guitar sessions someday, either through my own abilities or the abilities of my offspring. What if one of them actually learns to play? What if two of them learn to play? Or… three?
That would be a real miracle.