A couple of days ago, I had a very satisfying practice on my classical guitar, Aria.
At the end of my practice, I reached over and set her in her guitar stand, and stood to stretch out my sore back.
As I walked past my guitar, my hip lightly bumped the heavy music stand that held a couple of big guitar books from which I'd been sight-reading.
The stand toppled. It should have fallen away from me.
But no. The stand fell straight toward my guitar.
Like one of those movies where the tragic action happens in slow motion, the main character attempts—by running, diving, or springing—to avert the tragedy, all the while mouthing, "Nooooooooo!"
A corner of the stand hit Aria and she fell backward.
I made a dive for her, missed and grimaced in horror as she hit the wood floor.
Thwack!
Maybe she's okay.
Guitars do fall sometimes.
It wasn't a bad fall.
Maybe I'll be lucky.
I picked Aria up and turned her gently.
Then moaned when I saw the crack.
A big one.
Right along her shoulder.
Bruce heard my moan and came running upstairs.
"What happened?"
"Look!" I cried as I turned the guitar so he could see the crack.
I sank onto my chair, still holding Aria. Tears sprang to my eyes.
(I'm not usually a crier, but this just got to me.)
The next day I took Aria down to Boulder to my favorite Luthiers.
Don examined the guitar.
I held my breath during the suspenseful interval of time.
When Don finally looked up, he was smiling. "Yep, we can fix her."
I exhaled all the air that had been screaming to get out of my lungs for at least 60 seconds.
"But we probably won't be able to match the wood perfectly."
I didn't care. Just so long as Aria was fixed and ready to make beautiful music again.
Don quoted me a price that seemed reasonable and said it would take about 3 weeks for the repair.
What a relief. Now I'm counting down the days when I can bring my guitar back home.
Aria is a special guitar. Not custom made, but well-made, nonetheless.
With a lovely tone and lots of resonance.
It hurts not to have her close.
Her strings and her sounding board, are an extension of hands and a heart that desire to worship and praise God.
The two of us have spent many hours in the quiet and privacy of my office...
playing and singing,
offering sacrifices of praise,
finding refreshment and encouragement,
and, I believe, pleasing the Lord.
What is your instrument of choice?
Your voice, the piano, drums, tambourine?
Have you ever been separated from music?
How did it feel?
"Praise the Lord.
Praise God in His sanctuary;
praise Him in His mighty heaven.
Praise Him for His acts of power:
praise Him for His surpassing greatness.
Praise Him with the sounding of the trumpet,
praise Him with the harp and lyre,
praise Him with tambourine and dancing,
praise Him with the strings and flute,
praise Him with the clash of cymbals,
praise Him with resounding cymbals.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord." (Psalm 150 NIV Bible)
At the end of my practice, I reached over and set her in her guitar stand, and stood to stretch out my sore back.
As I walked past my guitar, my hip lightly bumped the heavy music stand that held a couple of big guitar books from which I'd been sight-reading.
The stand toppled. It should have fallen away from me.
But no. The stand fell straight toward my guitar.
Like one of those movies where the tragic action happens in slow motion, the main character attempts—by running, diving, or springing—to avert the tragedy, all the while mouthing, "Nooooooooo!"
A corner of the stand hit Aria and she fell backward.
I made a dive for her, missed and grimaced in horror as she hit the wood floor.
Thwack!
Maybe she's okay.
Guitars do fall sometimes.
It wasn't a bad fall.
Maybe I'll be lucky.
I picked Aria up and turned her gently.
Then moaned when I saw the crack.
A big one.
Right along her shoulder.
Bruce heard my moan and came running upstairs.
"What happened?"
"Look!" I cried as I turned the guitar so he could see the crack.
I sank onto my chair, still holding Aria. Tears sprang to my eyes.
(I'm not usually a crier, but this just got to me.)
The next day I took Aria down to Boulder to my favorite Luthiers.
Don examined the guitar.
I held my breath during the suspenseful interval of time.
When Don finally looked up, he was smiling. "Yep, we can fix her."
I exhaled all the air that had been screaming to get out of my lungs for at least 60 seconds.
"But we probably won't be able to match the wood perfectly."
I didn't care. Just so long as Aria was fixed and ready to make beautiful music again.
Don quoted me a price that seemed reasonable and said it would take about 3 weeks for the repair.
What a relief. Now I'm counting down the days when I can bring my guitar back home.
Aria is a special guitar. Not custom made, but well-made, nonetheless.
With a lovely tone and lots of resonance.
It hurts not to have her close.
Her strings and her sounding board, are an extension of hands and a heart that desire to worship and praise God.
The two of us have spent many hours in the quiet and privacy of my office...
playing and singing,
offering sacrifices of praise,
finding refreshment and encouragement,
and, I believe, pleasing the Lord.
What is your instrument of choice?
Your voice, the piano, drums, tambourine?
Have you ever been separated from music?
How did it feel?
"Praise the Lord.
Praise God in His sanctuary;
praise Him in His mighty heaven.
Praise Him for His acts of power:
praise Him for His surpassing greatness.
Praise Him with the sounding of the trumpet,
praise Him with the harp and lyre,
praise Him with tambourine and dancing,
praise Him with the strings and flute,
praise Him with the clash of cymbals,
praise Him with resounding cymbals.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord." (Psalm 150 NIV Bible)
My heart goes out to your "moment of terror". I have had similar experiences with my instruments and only relate that I survived them all.It is part of our makeup that anything we possess of quality must be carefully guarded and protected. With the techniques available to instrument technicians as well as their skill we shouldn't despair but rest in the care of one who cares about as much as you do about your instrument. God is good, all the time. Even when we do dumb things to our valuable toys.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Clark. It's a great comfort to hear from a fellow musician.
ReplyDelete