By Janel Breitenstein On my 34th birthday, my husband delighted me by strolling into the living room a sleek new guitar for me slung around his neck. I literally clapped my hands with glee, then stroked its mother-of-pearl inlay with my fingers. Now every Monday finds my kids and I strumming A minors or barre chords across from our Ugandan guitar instructor, often whipping up an impromptu worship session afterwards.
Come Thou Fount
Come Thou Fount
Come Thou Fount
By Janel Breitenstein On my 34th birthday, my husband delighted me by strolling into the living room a sleek new guitar for me slung around his neck. I literally clapped my hands with glee, then stroked its mother-of-pearl inlay with my fingers. Now every Monday finds my kids and I strumming A minors or barre chords across from our Ugandan guitar instructor, often whipping up an impromptu worship session afterwards.