I’m selling my violin.


When I say that, people automatically think, “Oh! You play violin?”


No. Not really.


As a small child I loved watching people play the violin. I’ve always loved music in general. Music, arts, literature, you name it. The violin and piano in particular. If you read yesterday’s blog post, you’ll see why I have a fascination with the piano.


Why do I love violin and the people who play it? Watch the next person closely who has a violin in their hands. They are in their own world. The rest of us don’t exist. They are free.


I love the sound of a violin. Even in an uplifting tune you can hear the sadness behind it. It reminds me of life. It’s real. It’s raw. It’s truth. If you listen hard enough you will realize the sound a violin string makes is so ugly that it’s beautiful. That’s life.


So why do I have a violin if I don’t play it? I wanted to learn to play the violin as a kid. My mom had me take piano lessons which I enjoyed and we could only afford because I used the church piano to practice on, we didn’t have one of our own. We had an electronic keyboard which my piano teacher told me hindered my abilities. I scoffed at her. Don’t tell me my whack electronic bossa nova dance music is hindering my classical music playing abilities!


I only took one year of lessons. I had advanced so quickly through the weekly lessons she gave me a third year piece to play for the spring recital. She even said it would be a challenge. I learned it. I could play it. I could play it well. Recital time came and I froze.


I butchered that piece like no other. I might as well have been playing Three Blind Mice on the recorder and dancing through the crowd.


My piano teacher’s pursed lips signaled to me that she was not a happy camper.


At the end of the recital she thanked everyone for being there and said, “I would like to recognize the students that did exceptionally well. As I call your name, please stand up.” She called every other student’s name but mine and then stared at me as everyone clapped for them. I stared right back. You could hear the tumbleweeds rustle at our feet.


That is why I only took one year of piano lessons. I refused to go back and she was the only piano teacher in town. It was a small town.


I still tinker at the piano when I’m around one. I still love the sound of it.


It wasn’t until I was 28 when I had a revelation that if I wanted to, I could buy a violin and play it. So I did.




I bought a violin, a case, some rosin, a tuner and a little song book. I took that violin home and made horrible, horrible music with it. I kept making horrible music with it until it started to sound a little better. Eventually I taught myself Three Blind Mice just for kicks. I learned to play the ABC song. Then the tune of Happy Birthday. That’s when you know you have arrived with any musical instrument.


So I bought a violin, taught myself to play and I played. Goal achieved. Now I’m selling it.


I was thinking about it this morning and some would say I didn’t achieve anything. I achieved what I wanted to. I played the violin. My goal wasn’t to learn and go on to become a world-renowned violinist. I simply wanted to know what it was like to hold a violin and play some music…and I did.


I had a dream. I realized one day I could make that dream real. I made the dream real. I have other dreams. I’m making those dreams real. Don’t give up on your dreams. Don’t think you are too old, too young or that you have to take it to the extreme ends of the earth to be successful in your dreams. Accomplish your goals. Start with small ones if you need to so you boost your confidence, just don’t stop.


Psalm 37:4

Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.



*A long time from now, when we are both in heaven, I’ll be the one skipping through the crowds playing Three Blind Mice on the recorder.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.