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My largest harp has 42 strings. I just replaced 34 of them.
People often ask me how often strings break. Not often. But strings wear out. The wire strings unwind, the strings made from gut stretch and after a while the vibrant angel voices become dull complaints. “Dead” strings must be replaced.

But this time I had a special motivation. I am making a CD. I’ve hired a hall, a soundman and next week we are recording. It is exciting. I want my harp to have its very best tone. So I spent a whole day tugging and tying and tightening strings that ranged from 1/16″ to 1/4″ in size. I needed macrame skills one minute and sheer strength the next. And I had to be very cautious not to strain my hands or let wiggling wire endanger my fingers. My hands and back were aching afterward and I actually bruised my palm trying to pre-stretch a low A.

Once all the new strings are on, it takes a few days for them to settle in. I have to tune a new string several times a day until each string finds the length where it sings. Those few days, the harp sounds awful. But let me tell you, now those new strings sound like bells struck by sunlight. And soon you’ll be able to hear them on my new CD!

I often compare myself to my harp. I came to Christ hoping for a little tune up. But when he heard me, he decided to replace my frame and my sounding board as well as my strings. He wasn’t afraid to hurt his hands to do so.

It’s hard to move the harp.
This is only partly because it is heavy. Mostly because I’m so picky–I mean careful. Imagine handing your 42 pound 5’7″ baby over to someone you don’t know! But that is just what I had to do this weekend.

On Friday night, I had the privilege of playing at Elkhart Has Talent, the fund raiser for Bashor Children’s Home. I live just up the road from the Bashor, a faith based resource for troubled children and families. Next to heartwarming effect of helping a good cause, the best part about supporting Bashor was performing in the Lerner Theater.

The Lerner–this grand remodeled theater not only has beautiful lights and breathtaking acoustics and private dressing rooms–it has stage hands whom I trust. The men wearing black shirts and ear pieces carefully listened to my explanations and then gently moved my harp with their strong hands.

For the first time in my playing career, I let a non-harp person wheel my baby out on stage. That way, when the lights came on, I could make an entrance–and the harp could make an impression.

It’s hard to move a harp. But it is worth it.

People’s hearts are much more fragile than instruments. They go out of tune with time, warp in the heat and break if dropped by another who should love them. And when they need to move forward, you desperately want strong stage hands you can trust.

That is why I was honored to play a part in fund raising for Bashor Children’s Home. While I am careful about my harps, they put ten times more care and attention into every aspect of reaching troubled teens. Through the strong but gentle hands of education, residential programs and foster care, Bashor moves teens out of bad situations back stage to performing well on life’s stage.

It is hard to move a heart. But it’s worth it.

“Have you picked out your Easter Hymns?” the first of my favorite senior ladies asked me. Two rooms later another white headed friend put a different ending on the same question. “Have you picked out your Easter dress?”

Getting to wear flowing dresses is a major perk of being a harpist but, yes, I pick out my songs before I pick my shirts. There are so many good Easter Hymns, “O Sacred Head Now Wounded,” or “Up From the Grave He Arose.” I look for songs that are in season and flattering to the shape of the harp’s sound. With all that energy going to my music, I engage a very good fashion consultant to handle my wardrobe–the Apostle Paul.

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

Colossians 3:12 (NIV)

I know what I’m wearing Sunday.

Happy Easter.

“When Irish eyes are smiling . . .”

Actually, the gentleman was Polish. But his eyes were a bright electric blue and his wit was equally bright. As we chatted after my monthly program, out of the blue this slipped in among his jokes. “My wife died last November. She loved hearing you play.”

I am only 1/16 Irish, on my mother’s side, so I didn’t get the Irish eyes. But whether by blood or by transfusion, I do have the love of Irish music.

In “the merry month of March” I break out all my Celtic melodies in honor of St. Patrick’s day. Those attending my monthly programs were treated to such favorites as “Morris Jig,” “Marie’s Wedding,” and, of course, “O Danny Boy.”

Two of my favorites are “Molly Malone” and “She Moved Through the Faire,” which have a particularly magical sound on my Celtic harp, Sigi. They also perfectly fit the gentleman’s situation. Both songs talk about a man whose fiancee has died and his dreams about her. In reality, these songs are very, very sad.

G.K. Chesterton wrote:

“For the great Gaels of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry,
And all their songs are sad.”

Its very true. But broken hearts and lost loved ones are not only the luck of the Irish. The only way to keep a heart safe is to follow the advice of another Irish song, the hymn Be Thou My Vision

“Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,
Naught be all else to me, save that thou art . . .
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.”

Because whether your eyes are Irish, Polish or you have a broken heart, when Christ is in your sights you have reason to smile.