Last fall, I acquired a new guitar. I’ve had her for a while, and she’s been searching for a name.
As you tell, she’s pretty rough around the edges, beat up pretty well, but, when played, puts out the most beautiful music.
Yesterday, it came to me. Mossie. In honor of Mossie Neal, a dear, sweet lady that was in my life for several years and became one of my favorite people, after getting off to a rocky start.
I’d been invited to a Church in Muncie….they were seeking a Minister of Music….and I attended for the first time. I was setting in a pew before service, minding my own business, and suddenly I was tapped…and not too gently…on the top of my head with a cane.
I looked up,and there was an 80 something year old woman who simply said “You’ll have to move. You’re in my seat”
Long story short, I got the job. And, not too long after, Mossie started feeling badly about what she had done. Somewhere through the grapevine, she found out I liked pie, and she baked me a pie. And then another, and another,and another.
Over the next several years, she’d call me about every other week and say she had a pie for me. She became my dear friend and I was so saddened when she died…but also so honored because in her last wishes, she asked me to sing at her funeral, her favorite song, “I’ll Fly Away”.
So, this guitar, that’s rough around the edges, has revealed it’s beautiful heart to me. Her name is Mossie. Long may she play.