I call them the Bermuda Triangle. PTSD, anxiety and depression are dangerous. Once we get caught in the vortex, things can get really nasty. National crises make it likely that we’ll have a national epidemic of the three mental health challenges. Into the Bermuda Triangle we sail or fly, and we may be stuck there for quite some time.

Clearly, all the immigrants and asylees are being traumatized during this crisis. They are the tip of the iceberg. People one generation removed are re-traumatized because they clearly feel, “That could have been me.” Anyone in the country on a temporary basis or illegally has to be terrorized. I’m sure many of you saw the Facebook post of the man begging to stay in jail so he didn’t get deported to Honduras: “If I am taken back to Honduras the gangs will kill me.” These people are the next layer down in the iceberg.

Everyone who knows such a person is in layer three. Those working in immigration and sanctuary care have got to be sleepless and horrified. These social justice workers are intimately connected to the people and the stories of how life-threatening it was to get to the United States. They have exhibited great courage themselves, many of these workers, to help vulnerable and desperate humans find some safety and dignity of life.

And the layers deepen as the concentric circles widen. How can we not have realized that the “six degrees of separation” we talk about are applicable here, also.

Many Americans are living with PTSD, anxiety and depression which have little basis in or relevance to immigration. That doesn’t mean that their PTSD, anxiety and depression won’t be triggered by the current crisis. Do you remember September 11, 2001? It was a mental health crisis for many of us who were nowhere near New York, not related to anyone who was there, and totally unaware of “terrorists” who did such things as fly airplanes into buildings. That didn’t stop many of us from feeling shocked, unsafe, threatened, and inexplicably angry, fearful, and sad.

Those are the three predominant feelings which correlate with PTSD, anxiety and depression. PTSD tends to make people angry. Their sense of personal control has been taken away, and they come out on the defensive, fighting. This is a fight for their lives. People with anxiety have been caught in the fear response. Something or somethings have happened which they could not predict or see coming, and they are terrified that they are not safe and that unforeseen danger lurks around every corner; therefore, they must be on high alert all the time, or they are doomed. People who suffer from depression have been faced with loss and grief which are too much to assimilate and bear, so the sadness has taken them under, and they cannot climb back to the light of happiness or joy.

In times of national crisis, when the nation is out of control, unpredictable things have happened, and the heaviness of loss is weighing us down, we as a nation are “triggered” into whichever of these three psychological wounds we have previously endured.

I am writing about this not to be a prophet of doom like Jeremiah. I am writing about this, hopefully, to help you understand that you may be experiencing some strange emotional ups and downs which remind you of the worst roller-coaster ride of your life. You are suffering with those who are presently suffering.  Their suffering has awakened your suffering which you may have thought was long handled and put to rest. The thing you need to cling to is that since you are reacting to the present crisis and feeling upset, you can congratulate yourself. You are a member of the human race. You do not see those of different skin tones and different nationalities and different cultures as “other” than you. If you did, you would not be feeling anything. If you saw those “others” as things — animals, rapists, drug dealers, criminals, any stereotypical category — you would be a psychopath or a sociopath. You are not. You are a human being, and you see other human beings as brother or sister. You see children as children.

“Ask not for whom the bell tolls,” Robert Browning wrote. “It tolls for thee.” Everytime someone is killed, someone is hurt, someone is bullied or injured or demeaned or unprotected . . . that is me. We are each and all God’s children. All the faith traditions say this, even though they may call God by many names. The message is the same. None of us can keep the stars in the sky or make the sun come up or keep the tides turning or calm the angry sea. Only a divine source can create and keep life. “A world of divine beings honoring the divinity in the other is surely heaven.” (This was a quotation from Josh Radnor quoted in a recent Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation —

Namaste means, “The divinity in me salutes the divinity in you.” None of us beamed ourselves here. None of us believed ourselves here. None of us can keep ourselves here. But we can bond together and show gratitude for this amazing gift we have been given. “We are one in the Spirit,” as the hymn says. Any time you hurt my brother or sister, you hurt me. Let us wake up. This planet is mighty small. I choose to honor all of creation. I know you do, too.

Love, Susan







June 23, 2018 at 10:47 AM Leave a comment


My friends, I am very concerned and deeply distressed for each of you who suffers from PTSD. (I’m sure those of you who suffer from anxiety and depression are not doing well, either.) You may be wondering why you feel so irritable, angry, distraught, unable to focus or concentrate, perhaps also unable to sleep, or unable to stop sleeping. It’s the news. Try as you might not to watch or listen, the very air is presently polluted with abuse, control struggles, rampant vulnerability and emotional pathos beyond our wildest imaginings.

Trauma builds on trauma. Once you are yourself traumatized, the trauma you see, hear, taste, touch and smell re-traumatizes you. It is very important to me that you know what is going on and don’t get down on yourself because you are having puzzling reactions, thoughts and feelings. You are having normal responses to the wide-spread dis-ease in our country. We as a nation are not protecting children. You, as a child, were not protected. This is incredibly hard for you to bear.

Please be very clear. PTSD from childhood abuse is the very worst kind of PTSD because it happens to children who are totally vulnerable and have no resources for self-defense. This includes any kind of abuse, whether physical, sexual, emotional or verbal, as well as neglect. PTSD from childhood trauma is frequently undiagnosed.

PTSD is not a mental illness, it is a psychological injury. People with PTSD have trouble distinguishing between past and present memories, have trouble processing emotions, have comparatively stronger fear responses, get flooded with negative emotions when “triggered” with trauma reactions, including muscle memory, smells, and probably some weird, funny things — like you may hate green cars or Bugs Bunny for no apparent reason. These things are all the result of the psychological injury.

What can you do to take care of yourself? Take the pressure off. Cut every corner you can. Whatever demands you typically put on yourself for performance and productivity — cancel them. This is a time for self-care. Get a massage, watch a comedy, go to the park and swing, adopt a dog or cat, clean, organize, exercise, plant a garden or even a pot of flowers, laugh with your funniest friends, write to people who are shut in and need a lift, volunteer, rock a baby… get the idea. What not to do: don’t watch the news, avoid caffeine and sugar and be moderate with any “substances” you may use. No energy drinks or stimulants. (You’re already over-stimulated.)

I’m sure lots of people are going to the doctor and making therapy appointments. This is a good idea. Sometimes it takes a crisis to get us to do what we should have done years ago. Confide in a trusted friend and DO NOT confide in anyone you don’t trust. If you seek out a medical doctor or counselor, do not stay with one who makes you feel uncomfortable or shamed. NEVER. 90% of whether therapy works is based on having a good relationship with your therapist.

Knowledge is power and I hope that reading this will help give you the knowledge that normalizes your feelings, the power to get through this difficult time in our history, and the awareness that you are not alone.

Love to each of you, Susan

June 20, 2018 at 10:34 AM 1 comment

Yes. Begin with YES.

Yes, is a wonderful affirmation. Yes is positive. Yes is conciliatory, agreeable and music to our ears. Yes creates affiliation and teamwork as well as possibility and hope.

May I have some ice cream? No, you didn’t eat your supper. Yes, as soon as you eat some more of your supper. What do you want to hear?

May I borrow the car? No, you didn’t mow the grass. Yes, when the grass is neatly mowed you may have the use of the car for a few hours. Which answer feels better to you?

These are easy parenting choices and most of us could probably summon up the insight to work with a child instead of creating opposition. It gets tricky when we start being challenged on our “positions,” our “beliefs,” our “opinions,” and our mostly inflexible “judgments.”

If someone asked me, “Do you support President Trump?” I would have a hard time starting with, “yes.” Most of the time, however, we aren’t asked a black and white question, and we can usually keep discussion going by using the “yes” approach, even when we can’t use the word “yes.”

Let’s go back to, “Do you support president Trump?” Here’s a yes type response, a response which leads to discussion and communication: “I’m sure there are things which President Trump has done and said with which I would agree. What in particular do you support of the President’s platform?” I actually had this conversation with a client recently and discovered what it was that won her loyalty to Trump. The immigration issue was very fearful to her, and she trusted Trump to “solve” that “problem.” She explained that she and her husband were willing to overlook the womanizing and the “meanness” and the mocking of people with disabilities because the immigration issue was so important to them.

I was so grateful to this client for explaining to me what she and her husband were thinking. She and I ended the day as friends, and our professional relationship continues. She did not ask what I thought or why, and so I did not comment. I simply listened.

This may seem like an inconsequential point I’m trying to make, seeking common ground rather than fostering resistance. I suspect, however, that many of you feel as impotent as I do to make any sort of substantive difference in this very divisive culture of ours. I suggest to you that starting with “yes” is one way we can stay connected to the “different” other.

Those of you who know me know I love to get my nails done. Here in North Carolina, as well as back in Ohio, I have found a Vietnamese friend who does this lovely thing for me. I cannot begin to tell you what I have learned about VietNam, Buddhism, cooking, hard work, and “immigrants” from the Ohio man and the North Carolina woman who “do” my nails. It is like going to school for international understanding and coming out with pretty nails. Each of them tells me I am his or her own personal therapist. It is a mutual, fulfilling, influential, perception-broadening relationship, and I am so grateful for the privilege.

We fell stymied, you and I. What can we do to promote peace and understanding? I don’t know about you, but I can’t even understand most of what is going on. The facts and the “spins” are becoming increasingly difficult to unravel. I know Betsy DeVos prefers privatization of schools and others presently in positions to protect our children, our environment, our planet appear to be working at odds. I know there are excellent organizations, like Sojourner’s Reclaiming Jesus movement and ThePoorPeople’, but I can not longer take to the streets. I am sending donations to politicians from Hawaii to Montana to Florida to Ohio. All of my efforts seem too little and much too insignificant.

I’m sure you want a world of peace and dignity for all. I am sure you detest the hatred and alienation and polarization which seem to be characterizing our country today. All I can offer is the two things I try to concentrate on as I wake up every day to a hateful, demeaning, nasty country of which I am a citizen:

I will alienate no one I meet and will make a concerted effort to smile at, talk to, and welcome into my world everyone I meet. My friend, Marsha, offers this simple tip: Call every clerk by name. Look at their name tag. Ask them how to pronounce their name if it is unusual. Engage with them. Connect.

Secondly, do what is in front of you. For me, this means every day I commit to the Christian principle — which exists in every world faith — THY WILL, NOT MINE. I awaken every morning with an idea of what I’m going to accomplish that day. Then the day starts, the phone rings, the unfamiliar email appears, and I smile: THY WILL, NOT MINE. Then I attend to what is in front of me, what has been presented and gifted to me. I try to focus on starting the day with, YES.

God bless us, each. May we do our own small, unique, vital and undoable-by-anyone-else-part.

Love, Susan

June 15, 2018 at 9:55 AM Leave a comment


“Personal history may be your greatest danger,” says Jungian analyst Arnold Mindell who believes physical and mental health (and, I would add, spiritual health,) is compromised and stunted by our outworn mental concepts of who we WERE. This includes, of course, not only what we experienced, like grief, trauma, and abandonment, but what people told us about ourselves. How we have been described over the years has created in our minds an image which we believe is, “ME.” Most of us get stuck in that artificial identity which may be partially or mostly true, or somewhat, or almost completely, different from who were were born to be.

An easy (although tragic) example is the child labeled “stupid,” “mean,” or “lazy.” Does that early labeling become a self-fulfilling prophesy? More often than not, yes. Donald Trump is using this repetition of an opinion and a judgment WHICH, IF REPEATED OFTEN ENOUGH, IS BELIEVED TO BE A FACT, as one of his main communication tools. Abusive parents since the beginning of time used this despicable technique to try to control, manipulate and disempower their children. Despots and dictators use the same technique to “divide and conquer” cultures and countries.

Once we make something good and another thing bad, we have alienated siblings and citizens. Stereotypes are nothing more or less than the generalizations of personal or group history which become, in psychological language, “fixed gestalts.” An example is pit bulls. BAD DOG. Siamese. BAD CAT. Really? A whole group, a whole species, a whole culture? This conclusion is so illogical as to be ludicrous. Why, then, would we ever believe a stereotype or a fixed gestalt? Because we trust group think, mass opinion and consistently repeated judgments MORE THAN WE BELIEVE OUR OWN HEARTS AND MINDS AND SOULS.

A article this month in Spirituality and Health magazine talks about inherited low self-esteem and asks if that self-hatred is really ours, or if we are carrying our mom’s or dad’s self-hatred for them. How much of what we believe is “ME” is actually something we inherited, were assigned, picked up in the atmosphere, etc. A show tune from the musical South Pacific says, “You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear, you’ve got to be taught from year to year, to hate all the people your relatives hate, you’ve got to be carefully taught.”

When this “teaching” is positive, as in the case of loving parents consistently telling a child how good and loveable that child is, the repetition is valuable and creates a solid foundation. But as Oscar and Hammerstein point out in the South Pacific lyrics, when the repetition is based in fear and hatred, we create wounded children who grow into wounded adults who go on to wound others.

I am physically in Texas as I write this. My son asked me to come see the new ranch he and his wife bought, hang out with him a little, hang out with his wife when she got her, and, in between, take care of the dog and four cats. My time of pet-sitting was just over twenty-four hours. At about hour eighteen, one of the cats started walking crooked, staggering, really. Luckily, my daughter-in-law got here, and she and I spent the next eleven hours in the car with the sick cat driving around rural Texas visiting three different veterinary clinics until we found the appropriate help at clinic three. (The cat has a VERY expensive ear infection and will be coming home today.)

All of that was just background for what I wanted to tell you about the vet at the second clinic. She is a stutterer. Miss Moore at Muskingum College taught the Speech Pathology class I took. I remember one thing about stuttering. It is about so much more than just stuttering, but here is the fact about stuttering: STUTTERING BEGINS IN THE PARENT’S EAR. Parents fear their child is stuttering, and then the stuttering takes root. This vet’s stuttering was pronounced. I felt great empathy for her. She must have grown up with a lot of criticism, fear and anxiety. No wonder she decided to work with animals instead of people. She was a profile in courage. She didn’t let what she was, a child who stuttered, keep her from becoming what she is: a a doctor of veterinary medicine.

We went to clinic three in our search for answers because one of my son’s childhood friends is a neurological veterinarian there. They haven’t seen each other for more than twenty years, and we didn’t see him at the clinic, but the two childhood friends were consulting on the case by phone. I asked the receptionist if she had a picture of this guy who had frequented my home when he was a kid. There he was, up on the wall with his partners. I would have known the smile anywhere. The best of him as a child became the compassionate doctor of vulnerable animals.

Who we were can be the solid foundation for who we become, but it can also be “our greatest danger.” As adults we need to shed the old skins that no longer fit and spend our lives becoming who we were uniquely and divinely born to be. If we don’t discover and discern our role in the human drama, no one else will. Here’s to YOU: Unrepeatable, indescribable, fabulously fresh, one-of-a-kind YOU!!!!!

Peace and love, Susan



June 9, 2018 at 9:15 AM Leave a comment

As We Are Formed

My father’s mother died when he was two. It wasn’t unusual in 1913 for a woman to die in childbirth and her baby as well. It was unexpected, though, since Floyd and Lottie had a healthy five year old daughter and a robust two year old son.

Lottie was the fourth of seven girls in the Meffan family. When she died, her sisters circled around the “sunlight” in the dark and dreary days — the sunny, lively, loving little boy. He was passed around from home to home, shared, fought over, and generally adored by the large, grieving family. For three years he was comforted, cuddled, played with, and doted on. Fifty years later, this man who lost his mother when he was two said to me, “I had a really happy childhood.” The aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and neighbors and friends did an amazing job of teaching this child that love comes from community. Safety truly is to be found in numbers. All his life my father talked about his family and friends from childhood, even while constantly increasing the circles of community and neighborhood.

Settled in Durham, Pennsylvania, instead of his native Bethlehem, Pennsylvania — even though he worked at Bethlehem Steel for 41 years and drove into Bethlehem every work day– Durham became his home. He helped found a local Lion’s Club and was active for 50 years. He served on the School Board for 38 years, assuming the presidency the year I graduated from high school, so that it was my daddy who handed me my diploma. He became a Durham Township supervisor and took the nine square mile farming community from the red into the black, even building a township facility and getting some great zoning laws into place. He taught Sunday School for over thirty years and led the singing in the communal beginning of every Sunday’s service, before we split up into classes.

My point is, and I could bore you with many more examples, my dad, as a young, impressionable child, realized in his bone marrow that he was part of a vibrant, loving community — the community of aunts and uncles and cousins and church friends. All his life, he continued to serve whatever community he found himself in and whatever community he found it wise to help create.

When my dad turned eighty-one, my mother finally insisted they move into Westminster, a life care center in Allentown (literally across the street from Bethlehem’s city limits). We were all afraid moving from Durham would kill him. Not so. He had a new community at Westminster. Within six months he was serving on the advisory board for the residents. Then he and another resident erected six bird houses and went together every few weeks to buy bird seed, from their own money, of course. My father never tried to get other people to pay for what he valued. If he thought it important and essential, he made it happen. Then the life long gardener started a small community garden at Westminster. Soon he was treasurer of the council and then, secretary, and, of course, then, president.

It was no problem for him. Community was were you were and who you were with. We had so underestimated him. He just shifted his focused and became a public servant in a different arena. Truly, he bloomed where he was planted.

Many, many people know more about psychology and human nature than I do. But I do have an opinion based on seventy-two years of observation, my education, my reading, and the stories clients have shared with me for the last thirty-some years. It is this: the first five years of our lives are called the formative years for a reason. Those early years give us a template for how we will navigate the waters of life. Will we be able to trust and depend on others? Will we be suspicious and withholding? Will we feel we must do everything ourselves? Will we be confident or cautious? Will we see a glass half-full or a glass half-empty? Will we love freely and generously?

I wonder, when you think about your first five years, what you see? Were your parents or caretakers able to put their egos on hold and make you a priority? Were they courageous and confident, or were they fear-based or angry people? Were they abusive, withholding, and harsh, or attentive, comforting and kind? We cannot control the family we entered and the ways in which we were treated. (Yes, I know there is a theory that we choose our parents. I have no idea if that’s true or not.) What we can control is what we do as adults when we use that early template to launch ourselves into fulfilling, purposeful, peaceful, exhilarating lives.

Those first five years are formative. The rest of our years are free. We get choice after choice after choice. We need wise teachers and mentors, and we need the wisdom to listen to them, watch them, and learn from them. As Richard Rohr says, one of the saddest things to see is a person who has climbed the ladder all his life and then realizes he had his ladder against the wrong wall. If so, we need to keep moving the ladder until we know we’re at the right spot. I’ll close with a funny example from my friend, Paula and me. She was my supervisor for my marriage and family degree. She had done a lot of therapy and was transitioning into more teaching. I had done a lot of teaching and was transitioning into therapy. Laughing together, we realized we were both headed in the right direction. WHY? She would sweat when she was doing therapy, but not when she was teaching. I would sweat in front of a class, but not sitting in my rocker, listening, as a therapist. So there you have it . . . the sweat test!! You learn something here every week, don’t you??


Peace and love. Enjoy the view from your ladder, and if you don’t, move it!!!  Susan

June 2, 2018 at 10:30 AM 1 comment

A Dreamer’s Dream

The invading army stole in during the night, hiding in the trees and rocks on the far side of the river.

Those assigned to watch did nothing, as they were instructed. “Just wait and see,” they were told. It made them nervous, but they did this.

The next morning the village went about its daily business. The cooks prepared great quantities of meat and the bakers brought fragrant bread from the ovens. The water-bearers filled all the containers. The lamplighters made sure the fuel was ready for the next night. The musicians practiced their music, the artists painted, and the writers recorded the village stories. The children had their lessons and games. Old women sat in groups making quilts and sweaters for the upcoming winter. The old men played their own games while they bounced the babies on their laps.

The invading army was confused. No one seemed scared that they were encamped just across the river.

After evening meal the left overs were put in a boat and volunteers were called to row the boat across the river. Eighteen year old twins volunteered, a male and a female. When they reached the far side of the river, they quickly unloaded the food, placed it on a flat rock, and rowed back across the river.

Now the invading army was really confused. Never before had the town they were about to conquer willing shared their food.

The next morning the villagers held their weekly service of gratitude. They sang and danced and sat in silence and then walked to the river and lined up, feet in the water, and passed a cup of fresh river water down the line, each having a sip, no more, and then nodding and giving the cup to the one beside them. When this was over, a large fire was started along the bank of the river, and meat was roasted for the village. Children were sent into the woods to pick berries. From somewhere a large barrel was brought and a few mugs were filled and again passed around. The men and the women, old and young, drank from the barrel. Another barrel, which looked like it might contain sweet milk, was the barrel the children circled, also sharing a few mugs, sipping, then running off to play, and running back.

When the meat was roasted and smelling fragrant, the villagers put slabs on pieces of bread and ate their fill. They sat around in a circle, then, listening to one older sage in particular. Volunteers were requested to take the leftovers across the river. Two strong young men stepped up, but in a loud voice another man gruffly moved in front of them. He would make this trip. He seemed less serene and calm than the others. The villagers were somewhat hesitant. Then a small older woman stepped beside him and said, apparently, that she would go with him. He motioned that she was not strong enough to row the boat. She motioned back to challenge him. Wasn’t he strong enough to row for both of them? He lost some of his swagger and helped the woman into the boat. The food was delivered without incident. The rock was found empty. Apparently last night’s food had disappeared. They returned across the river.

A fire burned late into the night on the side of the river where the invading army was camped. In the morning the villagers looked across the river. They could see nothing but a piece of material on the flat rock. Those who watch told the villagers the army had left at first light.

Two volunteers were about to cross the river and see what was on the rock when a giant hawk swooped down, snagged the material in his talons, and flew off looking like the victor of some unknown contest. The villagers laughed and shrugged and went about their daily tasks.

As the Tao Te Ching of Lao Tzu says; “She doesn’t contend, so no one can contend with her.” And, “If you compete with no one, no one can compete with you.”

Peace within and, maybe, someday, peace on earth, Such is the dream of the dreamer.

Love, Susan

May 26, 2018 at 11:40 AM Leave a comment

The Saboteur of Self-Care

The saboteur comes in the night while we’re sleeping. He (or they) wake us from our slumber and startle us with panic. He (I’m just using “he” for ease of language) says things in our ear like: “Oh, you should have. . . . ,” or, “Surely you didn’t . . . ,” or, “What are they going to say when . . . ,” or, “Really? You . . . .”

Alternately, we may be vacuuming or taking kids to school or speaking honestly to someone we thought we could trust when the saboteur arrives.

The saboteur is, of course, us. The saboteur is the way we beat up on ourselves. The saboteur of self-care is our very own SELF-TALK.

No one talks to us with the disrespect, the disdain, the humiliation, the disregard and the fear with which we talk to ourselves. We are our own worst enemy. And our own worst enemy doesn’t ever raise a hand to us. Our own worst enemy doesn’t have to touch us. It’s an inside job. We collapse under the weight of our own self-criticism.

Sensitive, thoughtful, kind people — you and me — are constantly self-editing. We review a thousand times every single thing we did and said. We are so concerned with not hurting anyone else’s feelings and not being rude or brash or selfish, that we DRIVE OURSELVES CRAZY.

Truly, my friends. We have to find a much healthier balance.

Here’s a starting point. When we start in on ourselves about a conversation we had….let’s stop. If I offended someone. . . it is up to them to tell me that. If my friend or colleague or boss doesn’t come back to me to say something, I certainly don’t need to hang on to my worries that I have done something wrong or said something thoughtless. Steve Perkins, my teacher/mentor/boss, used to remind me, “Susan. What other people think about you is none of your business.” That was a breath of fresh air to me. I previously thought I had to anticipate what others would think about everything that came out of my mouth. Obviously, we cannot take good care of ourselves if we are more concerned about what everyone else is thinking and feeling than about our own selves.

Once again, I want to assure you, if you are reading this blog, you are a person of integrity and kindness to others. The bitches and bastards of the world would never care about such things as we discuss.

So, changing the way we talk to ourselves is the number one way we can take better care of ourselves.

I have never been able to do the things some people suggest, like looking in the mirror and saying: “I LOVE YOU.” Um….going a little to far for me. But I have been able to learn to catch myself when I’m in critical, defensive, attacking mode IN MY HEAD. I would be a millionaire if I had a penny for every minute I gave spent sabotaging myself, doubting myself, and criticising myself. No matter what an army of others have done or said or thought about me — I have been a hundred times worse and have limited and harmed my own joy and peace and self-worth.

What we are thinking and where we have learned to be so harsh and relentless with ourselves is a topic for another time. For today, let us become aware of the saboteur whom we allow to live and breath within us. It is very important to self-edit and be self aware. It is horribly dangerous to our mental and physical and emotional and spiritual health to grind ourselves into the ground every time we aren’t perfect.

Here’s to being our best. Here’s to being as kind and gentle to ourselves as we are to every other living being.

Love, Susan

May 19, 2018 at 9:45 AM Leave a comment

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