The Light and the Lady - the recording that started it all

Almost from the day I’d gotten my first harp, I’d toyed with the thought of recording, but didn’t have contacts, didn’t feel I had the experience, didn’t think I was good enough, didn’t have the first idea of how to go about it.

I’d like to say that the inspiration to finally record came to me in a flash, a burst of angelic light, a voice from beyond. But what really happened is that it grew from a small, secret hope (that one day I’d have the experience, the talent, the idea) to a recording date slowly, surely, naturally.

Since I was a little girl, I’ve been obsessed with the Blessed Virgin Mary. I used to have dreams about her in which she’d save me from the devil and hold up her light-filled hands to me. (Before you start thinking I’m a saint or something, you need to know that I also dreamed about Rocky and Bullwinkle…a lot). My Catholic upbringing and my very Catholic, rosary-praying grandmother instilled in me a deep reverence for Mary. Because really, what a woman. What courage. What a journey.

 Grandma's Mary statue and rosary.

(That's her Jesus in the background, too.)

I loved Christmas especially for the carols about Mary and equally loved playing those carols on the harp. And out of that love grew the idea for The Light and The Lady — a musical meditation on the journey the Blessed Virgin Mary took from annunciation to nativity.

If nothing else, Mary is really a symbol of saying “yes” to divine inspiration. I took this to heart (believing that inspiration to do good and to use our talents is always divine) when planning the recording. I wanted to chicken out and scrap the project several times, only to think about Mary saying “yes” to something much bigger, much more life- and world-changing than my recording project. A miraculous conception and birth, a life of persecution, a son who would be sacrificed and launch a major religion…vs. a little CD. Yeah. Humbling.

It was 1999. I rehearsed 4 hours a day, prayed the rosary a lot and was prepared. 

 I showed up at Good Counsel Chapel, set up the harps, lit some candles.

For the next six hours, I played my heart out. The music flowed. The sound was rich, resonant. I was amazed by it.

By November, I had a CD. People were surprised when it came out and had a photo of Mary on the cover. They thought it should feature a photo of me and the harps. But that wasn’t what it was all about for me. It was about the music that told the story of divine inspiration, of a perfect example of saying “yes” to it. And that perfect example wasn’t me. My harps and I were just the vehicle for telling the story. 

I put our photos on the back...

...and on the inside.

I really thought I would end up giving the CDs away to my family and friends. But I sold hundreds the first Christmas. I had to order even more CDs in 2000. 

 And I just placed my third re-order for the recording a month ago. 

When I decided to play songs from The Lady at this year's holiday concert, I hadn't touched the music since the day the tapes stopped rolling. It was somehow too emotional to revisit, and that creative rush was too magical to try to mimic. Plus, my ideas have changed since then. I've changed dramatically since then. I wondered if I could bring the same warmth and power to the music that I did in those 6 hours at Good Counsel. But perhaps enough time has now passed. The music is flowing once again. I can't wait for you to hear it on November 26th.

Thanks, Mary.