Author: Sarah Wells

The Terrible Justice of Children

My children play war. Not a day seems to pass without swords or guns, knight costumes or military hats, the sound of explosives exploding in some pretend space in our house. Legos line up for battle in forts defended by…

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#Blessed: Jesuses and the Rich Young Ruler

In the winter months I find myself on the couch, dreaming of our next renovation project. While I scroll through social media sites and pin new window treatments, I feel my heart sink against the discord in our nation, the…

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Finding Beauty in People Who Don’t Look Like Me

I experienced a wave of culture shock when I first began my job. I have moved from one vaguely Eastern European community to another since birth, from rural Northeast Ohio to rural North Central Ohio back to semi-rural Northeast Ohio….

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Weep, Groan, Wail: The Need to Lament

Mom’s diagnosis came in late October 2015. Her oncologist told her what a tough disease this one is to fight, but that in recent years they had made great advances. “We used to talk in terms of only months,” she…

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Keep Magic in Christmas

When my children were finally old enough to do more than cry and crawl, I began a family tradition many others have around the holidays: the advent calendar. The goal was to plan an activity of some kind—large or small—for…

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This Old Church

When I was ten my parents bought a 150-year-old house across the street from my dad’s parents’ farm and next door to my mom’s parents’ house. It had been a rental for a while, so it needed work. Also, it…

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Love’s Greatest Opponent

Last week I made the rookie mistake of sharing a political post on my Facebook page, and wouldn’t you know it, someone disagreed and replied.   I have many friends and family members (tons of them, many supporters, they love…

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Broken Boundaries and Nervous Laughter

“Look at us!” Lisa pointed out when we arrived at the hotel. “We wanted to go on a trip, so we picked a date and a place and went! Just look at us! We’re adults!” We keep reminding each other…

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The Problem with “I once was lost but now I’m found”

I have written a lot about my marriage. A lot. My husband is the central character in a book-length memoir I’m trying, with the help of my agent, to get published. He has appeared in short essays and long essays,…

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The First Day, the Fifty-Fifth Day, and the Turning of the Seasons

It’s the first day of kindergarten for my last child, and he and his older brother walk in front of us down our driveway with backpacks on, roughhousing like tiger cubs. Brandon and I snap the requisite first-day photos and…

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