Archive for the ‘Praise’ Category

Those Kids! (A Palm Sunday reflection)



What a procession,
on the road into town!
What a commotion
and laying cloaks down.

Yelling ‘Hosanna’,
‘Blessed is the King’.
Shouting ‘Messiah’,
honouring Him.

Excited disciples
making a scene,
waving their branches,
a carpet of green.

The colt of the donkey
bearing the Lord,
the crowd shouting praises,
it seemed that they roared.

The children were listening.
They joined in the praise,
swept up in the moment
young voices they raise.

Into the temple
the Lord went that day
sweeping traders and money
changers away.

Healing the blind ones,
curing the lame,
watched by the children
praising His name.

‘Hosanna,’ they shouted
‘Son of David,’ they cried,
and the scribes were indignant
the priests said they lied.

The children annoyed them,
their simple refrain
stole all their thunder,
upstaged them again.

‘Do you hear what they’re saying,
these children?’ they said.
Indignant and angry,
they wanted Him dead.

But the children sang praises;
they shouted His name.
They knew He was worthy;
they told forth his fame.

While the priests and the scribes
plotted terrible things,
the children rejoiced for
this day was their King’s!
Re-blogged from 2014
© Copyright Ellen Carr 2014

There Always Were Flowers


There was always a flower
pinned on her chest,
flamboyant and bold.
She never looked old.

There was always a twinkle or two
in her laughing eyes,
piercing and blue,
forthright and true.

And always her everyday greeting,
an enveloping hug,
wrapped me around,
so warm and sound.

There were flowers in each room
of her neat little house,
sometimes in old jam jars,
or perhaps in a crystal vase.

Her laughter was like a fountain
bubbling up and out,
cascading all around,
an exuberance of sound.

She would often tie her shoes
with coloured laces,
and dance a little tap,
quite zany and madcap.

She always planted flowers
in painted window boxes,
purples, pinks and reds,
spilling from their beds.

She brightened up her walls
with gaudy paintings,
bought at garage sales,
aligned on picture rails.

Praise was on her lips,
and joy upon her face,
her optimistic style
paraded in her smile.

In later days I brought her flowers
with sweet perfume.
And I, the guest,
would pin one on her chest.

© Copyright Ellen Carr 2016


Uninvited Guests

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Table set, places to sit.
Guests arrive, barbie lit.
Then the wasps swing by,

A flurry for covers, cans of spray,
furtive eating, looking each way,
for the wasps are here,
despite it.

Yet there’s water to drink, food to eat,
more than enough. We are replete,
though the wasps hang round,

Praise for our table, cleared of its scraps.
Thanks for our friends, as we now relax,
now the buzzing wasps
are quieted.

© Copyright Ellen Carr 2015

A Prayer of Praise

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God of wild Afghanistan, its deserts and its peaks,
Of Palestine and Israel, the Turks, and of the Greeks,
Of every land, of every hill, all rivers and all lakes,
Of oceans, beaches, currents, and every wave that breaks,

You made the Earth, its plenitude, its seasons and its days,
The multitude of animals with their distinctive ways.
By your word came glaciers and wondrous waterfalls,
Thunder, lightning, whispering winds, melodic magpie calls.

In the Himalayas, the Bangladeshi plains,
The people you’ve created live in your domains.
Your likeness is ingrained in every person on the earth.
You know them and you love them, from before their day of birth.

No one land is God’s land; every place is yours,
From homelands, to our neighbours, to far and distant shores.
Nothing ever happens, from dawn to next sunrise,
That’s not by your permission, or takes you by surprise.

Our world is not forsaken; you’re following your plan.
To bring about your purposes, for the human clan.
The world began, will end at last, maintained at your commands.
Its schedule and our future, is entirely in your hands.

God of every place on Earth; each creature you designed.
Your purposes are perfect, for creation and mankind.
You are Lord of all the world, the keeper of our days.
We lift our hearts in prayer to you, in songs of grateful praise.

© Copyright Ellen Carr 2015

What’s a mother?

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What’s a mother?

Perhaps the one that birthed you

Or, perhaps she’s not.

Perhaps the one that held you,

Rocked you in your cot.


Perhaps the one that loved you,

Or, maybe she’s not.

Perhaps the one that nurtured,

Or, she just could not.


Perhaps a loving mother

Dried your baby tears,

Cared for you and taught you

Through your growing years.


Perhaps she is your hero,

The one who led your way,

Helped you meet the challenges

Of the everyday.


Or perhaps your memories

Are a different sort,

Of a gap inside your heart,

A woman who fell short.


Perhaps the one who raised you

Is not your flesh and blood,

The one who soothed your scratches,

Cleaned off dirt and mud.


Perhaps a different mother

Watched you change and grow,

Laughed with you and cried with you,

As she loved you so.


Whatever is your story,

Whatever’s in your heart,

God is always with you,

He loved you from your start.


No mother can be perfect,

This we know is true.

But God is like a mother hen

Watching over you.


He sees your joys and highlights;

He knows your hurts and pain.

He lifts you up on eagles’ wings;

He helps you fly again.


For mothers who have loved us,

All along our way,

For God’s care and protection,

We praise the Lord today.


© Copyright Ellen Carr 2015

Remembering, Never Forgetting

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A salt breeze wafts in from the bay,

Stirring the leaves, rattling the awning.

It whispers the start of my day,

The magnificence of its dawning.


A gull soars high on the breeze,

Dipping low, skimming a breaker.

The sun sprinkles light on the trees,

The dawn-flushed gold of our Maker.


I stand on the wash-rippled sand,

Watching the sea, hearing its roaring,

Each movement is at His command,

His marvellous power underscoring.


I have freedom to stand on this shore,

Living my life, trusting my safety.

Knowing peace in my land, and not war,

Because of the ones who fought bravely.


Through the years many carried their guns,

Tramping the land, sailing the ocean,

Leaving homelands, and their little ones,

For nation and God their devotion.


As the sky turns from coral to blue,

I’m singing His praise, knowing His blessing,

I rejoice in this fine morning view,

Remembering, never forgetting.


© Copyright Ellen Carr 2015


The thrill of surprise

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I’m watching two wattle birds swoop down to splash,

taking turns in the fish pond, in a quick dash,

then perching to shake themselves, on the deck rail,

feathers now fluffy – head, wing and tail.

Their choice of a bath place, I didn’t expect.

My custom-made birdbath they chose to reject.

And by my front door in camellia bush nest,

are three tiny sparrows, my scarce-hidden guests.

Such public nesting, so easy to spy,

where everyday traffic passes close by,

is not what’s expected in avian care,

I’d expect sparrow parents to house them elsewhere.

Oh, the creatures of nature don’t always conform

to our expectations, to our sense of norm.

They make creature choices, they find their own ways,

co-existing with humans, they brighten our days.

What a joy God’s creation, its myriad forms.

What a marvel the way every creature performs.

In the pattern and order, the thrill of surprise,

in delights unexpected, our Creator’s so wise.

Copyright © Ellen Carr 2013