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weary, Overwhelmed, Anxiety, Spiritual Growth, Christian walk, Waiting Dana Rongione weary, Overwhelmed, Anxiety, Spiritual Growth, Christian walk, Waiting Dana Rongione

Choked by the Yoke

All my life, I've been a tortoise.

I'm slow. When I do something, I do it carefully, methodically, and with extreme attention to detail. I'm not fast at anything, and I never have been. In middle school, I earned the nickname "Dead Stop." A teacher gave me that one. (Nothing says "bless your heart" like a faculty-approved nickname.)

But a strange thing happens when my schedule fills up and the demands start stacking like dirty dishes. Suddenly, I think I'm a hare. My body is still a tortoise, and my mindset is still slow and steady. Yet I feel I must zip around like the Road Runner, because surely that's the only way everything will get done. Beep beep!

On those mornings, my prayer goes something like this:

"Lord, I have so much to do today, but I know I don't have to do it alone. You are my strength. My times are in Your hands.

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Anxiety, Worry, Stress, Rise Up and Build, Deadly Darts of the Devil, Chronic Illness Dana Rongione Anxiety, Worry, Stress, Rise Up and Build, Deadly Darts of the Devil, Chronic Illness Dana Rongione

Worry Never Sees the Plot Twist

I had the calendar memorized, not because I wanted to, but because every time I glanced at it, my heart picked up speed and my stomach tied itself into a sailor's knot.

First, a team meeting. Then a harvest service, meaning extra time on church pews, those lovely wooden torture devices designed by someone who clearly never had a back issue. Then Sunday: out the door at 8:00 a.m., two and a half hours of travel, a full day of services, and the drive home, rolling in after 8:00 p.m. Then another harvest service, more pews, and another weekend away with another long drive, an overnight stay, and yes, more pews.

Meanwhile, life refused to take a vacation. The dog still needed walking. The dishes still multiplied like rabbits. Paperwork needed filing, devotions needed writing, and events needed planning. I had been dreading it for weeks. I told myself not to, and I really tried. But my nerves, apparently, didn't get the memo.

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Faith, Trust, Provision, God's faithfulness, anxiety Dana Rongione Faith, Trust, Provision, God's faithfulness, anxiety Dana Rongione

Can You Add That To My Cart, Lord?

This morning, Jason was baking scones (which has become a normal weekday activity in our house). When the oven timer buzzed on the Alexa app, he peeked at his golden-brown goodies and hollered, "Alexa, add two more minutes."

Now, under normal circumstances, Alexa is a fairly obedient little assistant. She usually chirps back with something like, "Two minutes added to the timer." Simple. Done. Exactly what he needed.

But this morning, Alexa apparently woke up as tired and foggy as I felt, because her response was, "I've added two minutes to the shopping list."

I'm sorry, what? You can't buy two minutes at the shop, Alexa! Believe me, if you could, I'd have a standing order.

Jason tried again. Same confused response. It took three attempts before Alexa finally caught on and actually added the time to the timer instead of the shopping list.

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Encouragement, Reaching Out To Others, Chronic Illness, Rise Up and Build Dana Rongione Encouragement, Reaching Out To Others, Chronic Illness, Rise Up and Build Dana Rongione

Faithful From Right Where You Are

I've never been much of a crowd person.

Give me my cozy office, a cup of tea, and a book to read or write, and I am in my happy place. The moment someone suggests a big event, a bustling gathering, or, heaven forbid, a party where I don't know most of the people, something inside me quietly dies.

So you can imagine how relieved I was when Jason recently preached a sermon about a woman named Anna.

She appears in Scripture for only three verses, just a little flash of light in the nativity story, but what those three verses reveal about her is nothing short of breathtaking. Here's how the Bible describes her:

"And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser: she was of a great age, and had lived with an husband seven years from her virginity; and she was a widow of about fourscore and four years, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day.

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