I Am Home

After five years of blogging, I'm going to say goodbye to this blog, The Road Home, that started me on a journey of fully discovering God's goodness. Life is tough. But God's goodness is tougher, as tough as water--- as it gently flows its way through mountains and rocks, shaping whatever comes its way.

The journey has been wonderful! I am humbled and grateful to have walked this road. God truly is my Shepherd. At a time when I needed clarity, wisdom and a safe place to be, He has opened His arms for me to rest and learn. And at this moment of my life, when many things are still uncertain, I am sure of this: I am home. As long as God is with me, wherever I may be, in His love I AM HOME.

This is a bitter-sweet moment, but I believe God is directing me to "green pastures", unbelievable as it may be with the overflowing cup He has placed in my hands. I just follow where He leads.

Thank you so much, dear friends, for your encouraging companionship in this journey. B…

When You're About to Give Up

Blow after blow. Life delivers accurately like a boxer's punches hitting you where it hurts the most. What do you do? Buckle down? Throw up your hands and run? Or hide? Or say, "Where is God?" Doubting Him as if He hasn't cared enough, loved enough or given enough proof that He does?

Sounds like Job's wife.

There was a great man named Job, God-fearing and blameless, who had everything--- a beautiful family and great possessions--- all that any man could dream of during his time. Then out of nowhere (for Job), catastrophe after catastrophe fell and he lost his children and all his possessions. Next, he got boils, painful to the core and occupying freely his skin from head to soles. That's when his wife spoke up: “Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!” (Job 2:9).

It's so easy to turn into Job's wife, when the loving and responsible man you envisioned your husband to be morphs into less than what he seems, when the family you'…

Growing Kids' Character and Personality

"Mama, help! Bad boys are attacking us!"#3 barged into the house crying. My mama bear instinct went on full drive, but knowing Ella, she can cry over almost anything, even just a flying mosquito. Well, with all that unusually loud noises coming from the yard, I thought the kids had all the neighborhood children invited to come play with them. I tried to calm her down to get the details. But all I got was a lot of frantic, "Small boys are attacking us!" So I looked out of the window to see what all that fuss was about. What I saw was comical, well, for me.

Two small boys, about the ages of four or six, were trying to act tough, banging small shoulders on the locked gate. I turned to Ella and asked, "If they want to play with you, why don't you let them in?" It was better for me that other children come over to play with my kids than for my own to be away while I worry over whether they're behaving well or not.

"They don't want to play. Th…

That Gap Called Miss (Poetry)


I _____ you.

That gap called miss
is huge and widening
filled with SILENCE that shouts
a longing that stretches for miles
wringing out hearts to despair:
Why can't we see eye to eye?

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith


If I can bottle memories of you, I would.
Of the first time I laid eyes on you
without care of risk, you smile in sleep,
your every sigh and grunt
the sweetest that could ever exist.

If I can put moments with you in a box
I'd proudly lug it around on my back
like home to a turtle, a heart to a soul,
the stories you told, the grit you showed
they put flesh on me.

But I only have my heart to hold
all the miracle/blessing that you are,
brought together, though apart,
no bottle or box can ever contain
a child's wonder, a mother's love.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith

*I just miss a lot of people these days. Squabbling through the internet is not the same as in person. :) Even writing letters was better, despite the high technology that…

Today: On the Lord's Highway

Three days of sunshine! Yes, we got three days of sunshine and it was wonderful. But today, we have rain. Beautiful rain, creating diamonds on trees and making everything sparkle, like eyes full of anticipation, for the sun that will come again.

And there's more to anticipate and get excited about--- Jesus is coming soon!

The voice of one crying in the wilderness:
“Prepare the way of the Lord;
Make straight in the desert
A highway for our God." (Isaiah 40:3)

We are to prepare for His coming... His highway.

But we know how easy it is to relegate that fact at the back of our minds as we day in and day out trudge through what is before us. And it is so easy to forget it, unless we invite Him into our lives, day by day by day. For, yes, that's how He come to us even as we prepare for His coming.

Before Jesus left, He promised His disciples:

“If you love me, keep my commandments.
I will pray to the Father, and he will give you another Counselor,
that he may be with you forever—
the S…

The Meadows and Other Poems

Lately I have been very distracted. Blame it on the words that just seem to float out of nowhere and bother me until it gets down on paper. (I've developed a tic on one eye because of it. Like this 😉 ) So here it is in blog form.


get out of the house,
ride through an unbeaten path
the sun baking one side of face

through the windowglass,
yellows and greens and blue
as open and as wide as laughter,

it beckons, "Come!

trudge through weeds that won't feed,
don't mind the burrs.

Fling your arms wide,
exhale city dust."

take in restoration.
don't live like a mouse.

hair free, we take out phones
look at the beauty with myopic eyes
and fail to thank God

love spoken out loud through
the meadows.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith

** Nature has a way of healing us. But we often don't appreciate it because it takes us away from what is comfortable and all our technology. A weekend with the family out by the seashore, rolling on dirt, breathing in salty ocean a…

A Mother's Profound Joy


A mother's profound joy
comes in tiny bundles
concealed in the smell of your hair,
the wonder in your eyes, your laughter---
so rich, so right.

When you eat what she cooks
she feels immense pleasure
in heaping unending servings of stew,
spaghetti, memories, lessons and love
you can always keep.

You have no idea
how she stares unblinking
as you lie in repose making snores--
never mind that she's tired of cleaning
after your own shadow.

A lisped prayer is to her ear
as a President's speech
filled with hope for the future-- no fear;
a nursery rhyme you sing in play is as
Pavarotti's poignant aria.

Stories of you go on and on...
and on with no end,
told without beginning to anyone, who
cares (and dares) to listen, and a photo
becomes two million

On Facebook, Instagram
and on her beloved iPhone.
Seeing you with good books and friends,
however, fills her with gladness: you
won't be bored ever.

Even without recognition,
she glows with your B,