Yeehaa, I'm a ROCK STAR!

Or maybe not really....

There is a monthly service at my church for kids and adults who are developmentally disabled. It's an abbreviated, somewhat simplified ceremony (actually quite to my tastes) that is mostly student and lay run -- including the guitarists.

I've played guitar since middle school. It's actually the same classical guitar my dad got in the Army, never learned to play, and then gave to me. If you've ever noticed the longer-than-male-average fingernails on my right hand, finger picking the soft-stringed acoustic is the reason.

I don't play all too often these days, but I always try to show up to play at Special Service. There are a few other guys who usually show up and we've got a canon of campfire-style Christian tunes (This little light of mine, All of God's creatures 'got a place in the choir...) we go through.

One of the fun things is that I really don't have any idea what we're doing, but I've got enough experience on guitar that as long as I can see the fingers on another guitarist's left hand I can follow along with the chords.

I'm no Jimi Hendrix or Andres Segovia, but you don't have to be great for a little fun, fellowship, and service with the skills you've got.

So tonight the other fellow and I didn't really know which songs we'd be doing until we did them, and we knew even less about our final tune "O, come away."

"Do you know how to play that?" he asked me.

"No, do you?"

"Well, here we go...."