Once a week I pack up my kids and their instruments to drive an hour for music lessons.
Even though we live in Music City, we head out of the city to a small town near where I grew up. Springfield Guitar is a quirky little independently owned store on the town square where the owner can often be found at his workbench breathing new life into old instruments. When we parade in each week, the people who work there often stop us to ask how my dad’s doing after his surgery, or how the homeschooling’s going. I went to school with some of their kids and I often ask about them and their families as well.
The teachers there are top rate musicians who really have a love of teaching. We sometimes go through spells where we have to miss a few lessons while they are on tour or playing gigs around town, but I never mind. This is Nashville and I consider myself lucky to have musicians of this caliber teaching my kids to play.
Music lessons for us are a part of life, and I knew even before I had children I wanted them to learn to play an instrument. There is a magic to playing music that soothes my soul. I’ve never played music professionally, nor would I ever want to, but guitars and singing are the setting of most every family function I can remember. Playing music feels like home, and I wanted that for my kids too. So, when it comes to my kids and their lessons, there is little to no goal setting. I don’t tell them what type of songs to learn or even how long to practice. They know I expect them to pick up their instruments most every day and they often do. This consistent presence of music in their lives has become so deeply rooted they take it for granted, and I do too sometimes. But when I hear a violin playing Bach coming from the back bedroom, or “Let It Go” being strummed on the guitar, or a new drum fill being worked out, I always find myself smiling.