4:00 p.m. Monday

Clare comes up the stairs and knocks on my screen door. She is thirteen. I’ve known her since she was four. Back then her big sister was studying guitar with me and Clare would tag along with her dad at lesson time. She would sit in my waiting room playing with a few toys that were scattered about while her dad read his book. When she was eight it was her turn to learn to play guitar.

What do you teach an eight year old? For me, it’s always about the songs. If the song is true, it tells a part of the story of who we are.
“Twinkle twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are.”
Think about it. Now isn’t that beautiful… and a part of our story?

So that’s where we start. When Clare leaves after our first lesson she knows everything there is to know about how to practice and play “Twinkle Twinkle.” It can be an amazing thing to begin an adventure.

Five years later Clare sits across from me playing “Blackbird.” And I’m noticing “Wow! She really loves doing this… this music thing. And I see the beautiful changes: four… eight… and now thirteen. Inside I’m shaking my head in wonder!

If you count the years teaching Claire’s sister Emily, I’ve been with this family for a decade and I’ve had the astonishing privilege of seeing these girls grow up. And I’ve seen more. I’ve seen how their dad nurtures and loves his daughters. How his sweet nature encourages them. How he puts his money where his mouth is by providing instruments and all those lessons with yours truly.

One more time. Clare is right here sitting across from me.
“Play me anything you want; anything you feel like.”
She goes into a little fingerpicking version of “Scarborough Faire.” She’s practiced it a ton and it shows. I look over and see: Beautiful soul. Clare. Playing sweet music! I close my eyes and smile.