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Dana Rongione 15/05/2026 Dana Rongione 15/05/2026

Are You Killing Yourself Trying To Be Perfect?

I used to be the world's most dedicated perfectionist. I'm talking full-blown, no-holds-barred, sweat-through-your-shirt perfectionism. And I had Bible verses to back it up … or so I thought.

"And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men." — Colossians 3:23

I latched onto that word heartily and ran with it. Right off a cliff. In my mind, "heartily" meant perfectly. It meant excellence at every turn, spotless execution, and absolutely zero margin for error. Good enough? Not good enough. Better than good? Still not good enough. I was the woman who proofread her grocery list. Twice.

I toiled. I panicked. I cried. I expected the same impossible standard from everyone around me, too, and trust me, they were not fans of that. I was building my whole life around a perfectionism that I had somehow convinced myself was holiness.

Dana Rongione 22/04/2026 Dana Rongione 22/04/2026

Choosing Stillness Over Fight or Flight

I thought I knew my Bible birds: sparrows, eagles, ravens, and even the poor rooster that unwittingly took part in Peter's darkest hour. But recently, I met a new feathered friend, and I can't believe I've been overlooking it all these years. Allow me to introduce the bittern.

I know, it sounds more like a stomach issue than a bird. But this "crazy" bird has completely captured my imagination. The bittern appears in several places in Scripture, tucked away in verses about ruined cities becoming lonely, marshy places: "I will also make it a possession for the bittern, and pools of water..." (Isaiah 14:23). It's a secretive marsh bird that blends so well with the reeds that you can stare right at it and never see it.

Here's the part that really struck me. When danger approaches, the bittern doesn't flap around, screech, or take off in a panic.

Dana Rongione 13/04/2026 Dana Rongione 13/04/2026

How To Turn on the Light When Fear Is Swooping

I have a confession to make: I am afraid of things that don't exist.

Not ghosts or monsters under the bed. I outgrew those...mostly. No, I'm talking about the imaginary monsters I construct out of thin air whenever I face a new deadline, a hard conversation, or an unexpected season of life. I can build something terrifying out of nothing, and sadly, I'm quite good at it.

Turns out, I'm in good company. Not just with other anxious humans, but with ancient settlers who looked up into the twilight sky and panicked over a little bird called the nighthawk.

By name alone, the nighthawk sounds ferocious. Something with hawk in the title ought to have razor-sharp talons, a hooked beak, and zero patience for your nonsense. Early observers watched it swooping through the dusk and slapped the most fearful label they could find on it: Hawk. Done.

The terror only grew worse from there.

Dana Rongione 27/03/2026 Dana Rongione 27/03/2026

When the Ground Disappears

I want to tell you something about greyhounds that sounds completely impossible until you see it for yourself.

When a greyhound runs at full speed, it uses what scientists call a double suspension gallop. What that means in plain English is this: twice during every stride, all four of the greyhound's feet leave the ground at the same time. Not once. Twice. In fact, when a greyhound is running full out, it spends roughly 75% of its time completely airborne. That elegant, flying creature is, at any given moment, more likely to be in the air than on the ground.

Think about that for a second.

For a greyhound, losing contact with the ground is not a crisis. It is not a catastrophe. It is not even a stumble. It is simply how the greyhound moves forward.

Dana Rongione 20/03/2026 Dana Rongione 20/03/2026

Are You Sleeping Through the Night?

My smartwatch and I have a complicated relationship.

Every morning, I roll over, bleary-eyed, and check my sleep score. And every morning, that little device has the nerve to tell me exactly how badly I failed at something I've been doing my whole life: sleeping. Honestly, you'd think I'd have gotten the hang of it by now.

Here's how the scoring works. I can earn 50 points for getting a full 8 hours. I can earn 30 more if I go to bed at my set bedtime of 9 p.m. And I can earn up to 20 points based on how many times I wake up during the night, not just a little shift or a sigh, but a full-on, heart-rate-changing, get-out-of-bed kind of awakening.

That last category? That's where things get embarrassing.

On more than one occasion, I have scored a big, fat zero on my interruption score. Zero! You know what that means?