I was at church a few weeks ago, and as we were singing one of the praise songs, I was thinking of how my voice was in need of practice singing. I thought of how I have not sung regularly outside of church services and meetings in a long time. And suddenly, I wanted to get my guitar out of storage.
I was fairly sure it was reachable in the storage unit. I drove over there after church and opened it up. Yes, indeed, there it was. It took a little bit of maneuvering to get it out.
As I lifted it out, brushing some dust off the case, I noticed two name labels on it. Of course, I knew they were there. But unexpectedly, seeing them this time, they registered. The guitar had sat in my old apartment un-played for several years, an object taking up space and collecting dust.
But this time, I saw them. I noticed them. One was the obvious: my own name, identifying the contents as mine. The other label was the name I’d given the guitar.
That was a bit of a jolt. I had named the guitar! How had I forgotten that?
As soon as I saw it, I remembered. I remembered the name and what it means.
What struck me was how it had been obscured for years. Why I had a guitar at all, how I’d gotten this guitar, why I named it at all. All those thoughts came bubbling up as I maneuvered the case into the car.
I grew up in a musical household. I like singing. I could play the piano a bit. But one thing I couldn’t do, was play the piano and sing at the same time. So, when I was in junior high, I got a guitar and taught myself chords. That guitar saw a lot of duty — going to camp with me, teaching fourth grade Sunday School. But it didn’t have a case and it got a little banged up.
As I finished my undergraduate studies, for Christmas or a birthday (I don’t remember which), my parents got me a new guitar. A beautiful Spanish style 6-string guitar in a case.
I named her “Kelda.” The name was a Norse one, meaning “spring, fountain.” I wanted it to be an inspiration and uplift.
I used to sing frequently. I don’t know why I fell out of doing it. But getting Kelda out of storage was a good thing. I did some singing. And remembered more of myself once more. How had I lost that? I’m not sure. The important thing is that I’m changing things around, reclaiming something of myself.
