Looking for a specific topic or Scripture? Try the search feature:

Looking for a specific devotion? Try the archive:

Dana Rongione 10/06/2026 Dana Rongione 10/06/2026

Is Your World Flying Upside Down?

I learned something recently in my Animals of the Bible study that completely rearranged my brain.

It turns out, moths aren't actually attracted to light at all. I know. I know! Everything we thought we knew about moths is a lie. Well, not a lie exactly, but definitely not the whole story.

Here's what's really going on. Because moths fly in complete darkness, they face a very real problem: how do you know which way is up when you can't see anything? God, being the brilliant Designer He is, solved this problem by giving moths a built-in reflex to always keep their backs toward the brightest light. For thousands of years, that worked perfectly. The sky, lit by the sun or the moon, was always the brightest thing around. Back to the sky, fly straight. Simple. Elegant. Genius.

Then we humans had to invent electricity and artificial light.

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 25/03/2026 Dana Rongione 25/03/2026

Handle With Care

If you've ever owned a greyhound or spent time around one, you know they are gloriously fragile.

Not in spirit. In skin.

A greyhound's skin is extraordinarily thin. There is very little fat or fur between the outside world and the muscle beneath. What would be a minor scrape for a Labrador can become a significant wound on a greyhound. A small bump. A brush against a rough surface. An accidental nip during play. Things that most dogs would shake off can leave a greyhound needing stitches. In fact, up to 25–30% of greyhounds have a condition that makes them prone to excessive bruising and bleeding, even from minor incidents. Greyhound owners quickly learn that what looks like nothing can actually be something, so they handle their hounds with gentleness, awareness, and care.

Now, doesn't that sound like some people you know?