Author: Sarah Wells

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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Protecting the Rapist

Let me tell you a familiar story.   A beautiful girl is dressed in beautiful clothes. A man finds her attractive and schemes with a friend how he can have her. When she is alone with him, he grabs her…

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Outgrowing the Old Stories

In my early twenties, I took part in the first of many young women’s Bible studies. It was an in-depth study of David, and it was transformational. For one thing, I found an author who loved digging into the Bible…

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Certain of What We Hope For

They are building new apartments near my office on the east side of Cleveland, within walking distance of where I work. I drive by them on my way to work from our home in West Akron, an hour up Route…

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Fear Distorts. Love Transforms.

On our way home from my in-laws the other day, my husband and I drove by a little white church with a prominent sign in their front yard.   It read, “Choose the bread of life or be toasted.”  …

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Do Not Let Me Forget

When I first started regularly attending church with my high school boyfriend, we sat near the front of the sanctuary with his mom and dad and brothers in the plush red velvet pews.   I watched, mostly. I watched his…

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