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Still Standing: What Wildfires Taught Me About Surviving Hard Seasons

Still Standing: What Wildfires Taught Me About Surviving Hard Seasons

If you've been watching the news, you've probably heard that Wales has had its driest, hottest summer since records began. July was the driest in nearly 200 years, and by mid-August, some parts of the country had received a meager six percent of the expected rainfall. Six percent! My garden looks less like a garden and more like a crunchy doormat. Even Henrhyd Falls (known as Batman Falls from The Dark Knight Rises) has run completely dry for the first time in recorded history. When Batman's waterfall stops falling, you know things are serious.

Naturally, all this heat and drought have turned Wales into kindling. Firefighters across England and Wales have battled nearly a thousand wildfires already this year, with fires occurring frequently through the first weeks of August alone. The large, dramatic blazes have mostly hit the south, but even here in mid-Wales, smaller fires have popped up along our hillsides.

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Exhausted and Withering? Stop Producing, Start Digging
Encouragement, comfort, Weary, Spiritual Growth Dana Rongione Encouragement, comfort, Weary, Spiritual Growth Dana Rongione

Exhausted and Withering? Stop Producing, Start Digging

I've never been much of a gardener, but I've become a bit of an accidental tree-watcher since moving to Wales. Between our hikes through the countryside and my endless fascination with anything that grows without complaining, I've picked up a few strange little facts that have stopped me in my tracks. For example, when drought hits, a healthy tree doesn't just stand there and wilt dramatically as I would. It has an ingrained survival strategy.

The tree stops producing new leaves. It pulls back from growth mode and turns its energy inward. And then, rather than throwing a fit about the lack of rain, it sends its roots down deeper into the soil, searching for whatever moisture is still hiding beneath the surface. The tree essentially says, "Fine. If it's not coming from above right now, I'll go find it below." No drama. No dying. Just digging.

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I'm Doing Everything Right, So Why Do I Still Feel Behind?

I'm Doing Everything Right, So Why Do I Still Feel Behind?

Many years ago, Jason and I decided to tackle the Natureland Trust Trail at Caesars Head. I pictured a pleasant woodland stroll with maybe a stream, some birdsong, and a nice photo opportunity or two. What I got instead was 5.8 miles of "very strenuous" terrain that had me telling my husband, in complete seriousness, "Just leave me here. Save yourself."

I had done some research beforehand. I knew the trail existed. I knew its length. I knew people had hiked it successfully. I even packed water and wore my best hiking shoes. And yet, somewhere around mile three, blisters started to form, and my knees began to scream. I remember thinking, Why does this feel so much harder than I expected? I did everything right. I wore the appropriate clothing. I had all the proper gear. Yet, I still wondered if I was going to die on that trail.

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Faithful in the Shadows

Faithful in the Shadows

There are days when I look at my life and wonder if any of it matters.

I'm not talking about a dramatic crisis of faith. I'm talking about the quiet, creeping question that slips in on an ordinary Wednesday when nobody's reading my blog, nobody's buying my books, and our Bible study only has four ladies in attendance. 

Is this really making any difference? Am I doing anything that truly matters?

In my newest book, Hope Refined, my character Merlin wrestles with this very thing. He's lived for decades, faithfully following and serving, yet he looks back and sees what feels like a long corridor of nothing. 

No great victories. 

No world-shaking moments. 

Just years of small, quiet, unseen faithfulness. And he wonders if he's wasted it all.

And then Jesus reminds him of the seven thousand.

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Putting on the Armor When You’re Tired

Putting on the Armor When You’re Tired

Last week, Jason and I finally did it. We hauled out the old, falling-apart dressers and replaced them with a shiny new (well, new to us) three-door wardrobe. Jason built in some shelves, I found the perfect baskets, and over the course of a few days, we went through every piece of clothing we had stuffed in those poor drawers.

Some things were easy to let go of: old, worn-out pieces that had lived a good life. Others I just never reached for anymore. But I'll be honest, there were more items than I'd like to admit that simply didn't fit anymore. I wish I could say that some had gotten too big, but sadly, that was NOT the case. Either way, they weren't doing me any good.

As I stood there, holding up yet another item that no longer fit and muttering something unladylike under my breath, a thought hit me: Sometimes the armor of God feels exactly like this.

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