For Christmas in 2007, my husband bought me a guitar. Four and a half years later I am finally starting to take lessons. Why did I take so long?!

That, friends, is a really good question.

I have the time to learn guitar. I have kids, but they nap. I don’t work outside the home. I’ve made time to take up running, sewing, furniture building and voice lessons. I read. I waste time on Facebook. I have free time.

I also had motive to learn guitar. My family is musical. My mom played piano. My sister played viola. My father-in-law sings in a local group. My boys rock out on pots and pans. And my husband? He plays anything on the piano. An. Y. Thing. He’s the one who encouraged me to take up guitar in the first place- so we could play together at home and so I could one day play with him at our church.

So why have I stalled for so long?

I used to ask guitarists how long they had been playing. The answers varied: 6 years, 7 years, 10 years, 20 years. But I can do slanted math. I figured that if I started “now”, I would be at least 35 or 40 before I was really good at playing- or good enough to not embarrass myself and garner unwanted criticism.

The truth was that I believed musicians needed to start young to ever really be good. I thought I had missed my chance.

So what changed? Why do I now spend 3 or 4 cumulative hours a week practicing the change from Am7 to G (among other things)?

It was mostly running. I faced my mid-twenties with a history of awkward, embarrassing anti-athleticism. And then I ran. And I loved it. And I didn’t mind much that I wasn’t the best. I was having fun.

At some point I realized that taking guitar lessons wouldn’t be just playing catch-up to all the guitarists who had been playing for a decade. It would be about me…and having fun with my family…and learning a new skill….and being able to sing and play my own worship to God.

And it’s fun!