One day my sweet friend Billy Cook looked at me and said, “I bet I can teach you to play the banjo in less than a minute.” I told him he was crazy. You don’t just learn the banjo in 60 seconds.
“You wanna bet?” He asked. So we made a wager right there in church (neither of us was struck by lightning).
Then he pulled out a 6-string banjo and said, “Here ya go. I win!” I didn’t even know a 6-string banjo existed. You can play it just like a guitar. It’s seriously the coolest thing since Betty White. And for the first time in my life, I played the banjo. It was so cool! He let me take it home for a few weeks and play around with it. We always talked about shopping for one but never made it happen.
When he went to be with Jesus in May, my heart was broken. I was on vacation and didn’t get the opportunity to give him a last farewell. It felt a lot like losing another grandpa. But man, are we gonna jam out in heaven one day.
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I loved playing music with him at church. He would always make sure I had a place to sit next to him so I could watch his fingers. Playing with a bunch of guys who’ve been playing music longer than I’ve been alive ain’t for the faint of heart.
Someone would say, “Let’s play this the key of C,” and I’d look at Billy like a deer in headlights. He’d say, “Put your capo here and just follow my fingers.” And so I would, and sure enough, I could keep up with the best of them.
One of my greatest desires was to have that banjo, and the Lord graciously answered my prayer. I picked it up this weekend while in Belle, and it will forever be one of my most prized possessions.
When I opened the case, I found a few handwritten lyrics Billy had written down so he could play some songs at church. I wanted to weep at the sight but held it back since I was getting ready to do a show and didn’t want to smear my mascara.
I will forever treasure this banjo, and I will forever treasure his handwritten devotion to spreading the Gospel through music.
‘Til we meet again, Billy, I’ll take good care of it.
