ALL IS GRACE

Inspired by Ann Voskamp and Saint Patrick, I have adapted a hymn to remind us, to remind myself, that all is Grace.

Grace with me, Grace before me, Grace behind me,

Grace in me, Grace beneath me, Grace above me,

Grace on my right, Grace on my left,

Grace when I lie down, Grace when I sit down, Grace when I arise,

Grace in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Grace in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Grace in every eye that sees me,

Grace in every ear that hears me.

To learn more about the original hymn, called Saint Patrick’s Breastplate, Click Here. 

A Welcome Place for the Unwelcome Elephant

This week I have the glorious privilege of guest posting for one of my newly hatched blogger friends. Adrian's blog, Life Before the Bucket, is one of the mighty morsels of delicious food for thought I consume on a daily basis: my blodder. He inspires me with his wit and insight, shares a passion for social justice, and is by far my best and most prolific blog commenter (the rest of you--take note).


I am happy as a hippo to share a Two Part series on what it means to live life to the fullest. So join the safari over at Adrian's blog to check out my wrangling of the The Unwelcome Elephant and learn How I Became God's Basking Case. And feel free to follow Adrian's exemplary example and leave lots of tasty comments. AND be sure to check out all of his wonderful posts. 



For any of you that clicked over from Life Before the Bucket, welcome! Three important things you need to know:

1. My real name is not Algeisha

2. I have a (little more than a) thing for T.S. Eliot

3. I am so glad you're here 


You can get to know me in my aptly named About Me section or just meander about the site, and, if you'd like to stick around, follow me on twitter or by email or any of those newfangled RSS thingeys that people seem to like by using the buttons to the right. I would love to hear from you! Please feel free to leave a comment or email me at lewis.aly(at)gmail.com.

And thank you, Adrian, for welcoming my unwelcome elephant.


*photo credit Cameron Lewis, who happens to be my brother and also happens to make and play great music. 

T.S. Tuesday: Shall

In my writing this week about the God of movement and transformation and transfiguration, one of my favorite T.S. Eliot lines has been illuminated.

Believe me.

This. is. ground. breaking.            

These words are a part of me. They flow involuntarily from my lips, like curse words and Help-me-Jesuses from the mouths of the shocked and endangered.

My favorite phrase from all of Eliot’s poetry (and that's saying something) has been transformed. 

“And so the darkness shall be the light

And the stillness the dancing.”

I noticed a new word the other day.

The darkness SHALL be the light.

Shall—like, not yet.

Not yet.

That's not how I pictured it. With Eliot’s poetic prowess, his omission of the second “shall be” in the phrase “The stillness the dancing,” stillness and dancing became one in my mind. The words interchangeable in the syntax; the images interchangeable in my mind.

The phrase evokes a sense of darkness = light. Stillness = dancing.

But that’s not what Eliot says.

Darkness BECOMES light.

Stillness BECOMES dancing.

As Ann Voskamps puts it in One Thousand Gifts, they are transfigured.

“Darkness transfigures into light, bad transfigures into good, grief transfigures into grace, empty transfigures into full.”

Darkness transfigures into light. Stillness transfigures into dancing.

Darkness ---> Light

Bad ---> Good

Grief ---> Grace

Empty ---> Full

Stillness ---> Dancing

Eliot’s not calling us to pretend that we see things we don’t or to imagine that our motionless bodies are boogie-ing. But to anticipate. To be patient. 

Because “the darkness SHALL be the light and the stillness the dancing.”

And this, this is comforting.