This past week I sold my Martin guitar. Okay, maybe it's not as dramatic as the changing of monarchy rule. But in my mind, an era has passed for me.  I owned this guitar for 12 years, and it always served me well. I bought it my freshman year of college when I started playing guitar more often, upgrading from a Washburn guitar that didn't have a pick-up. It was the guitar I used when I started leading worship at my church in Baltimore the following year. When I returned home after graduating college, I began leading worship at my church, and the Martin saw frequent playing time each week for two years. However, once I stepped down from serving as a worship leader, my six-stringed friend sat mostly untouched. In fact, in the last couple of years, I had played the guitar only a handful of times.

I decided to sell the guitar, feeling that it was time. Though I was told I would regret selling it, I posted it on Craigslist and was contacted by a local musician who was looking for a new guitar for his nephew, an aspiring acoustic guitarist. We made plans to meet on campus and this potential buyer came ready to buy. As he sat there inspecting the guitar, he tested out the sound quality by playing some Otis Redding. Upon hearing "Sittin on the Dock of the Bay", I began to understand what "seller's regret" was. But there was no reason for me to keep this guitar other than simply sentimental value. Had he decide not to buy the guitar at that point, I would have stayed there for a while attempting to play it with my uncallosed fingers. In the end, he did buy it from me and I was sad to see it go.

The guy called me the next day thanking me for the sale. He was so pleased with the guitar and told me that he believed his nephew would be so happy with it. He was a classic gentleman, and my guitar could not have gone to a better home.