Author: Sarah Wells

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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The Way of the Warrior: A Review of Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton

When Glennon Doyle Melton first announced the release of her memoir, Love Warrior, I was sickly jealous. I read her book description and cringed. This was my story, only what she wrestled with and what she overcame with her husband…

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Love Letter from a Millennial

In elementary school, science lessons taught me to pick up and package our plastics, our papers, our cans, and our glass, so I went out into the world on hot summer days with a trash bag to clean out the…

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Days in the Wilderness

Do you know what really gets me fired up, what drives me nuts more than anything else on the Internet? The spinning circle of my phone searching for a signal.   Some places in the United States have no cell…

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Grief in a Time of Abundance

My daughter skipped between graves etched with dates from the mid-1800s and we followed, my mom and I, trying to decipher weathered letters on bleached limestone. Some of those buried were old when they died, but many were young—so young…

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A Gluttony of Peace

This morning on my Facebook feed there are links to videos of police shooting black men. This morning on my Facebook feed there are links to articles about jihadists killing hundreds in the Middle East. There’s outrage, outrage, outrage, from…

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My Heron: Wearing God

Last spring on my morning commute I began to notice a heron, perched upon a fallen log that extended out into the reservoir I crossed. Its profile was dark against the early morning muted light that made the woods, the…

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Identity Crisis

I stood in the embrace of my husband in our bedroom. As the man who had committed to loving me almost a decade ago secured me in his arms and rubbed my back, it was as if a storm of…

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