[Mary was in a beautiful sailboat, sailing along, not in the sea, but in the air, sailing through fluffy, fleecy white clouds. Dolphins lept out of the clouds and arced, reentering without a splash. Tall white clouds rose up out of the sea of clouds like icebergs. Mary docked her boat on one and got out. She climbed high on the cloud-berg and gazed into the fleecy distance serene and pure. She felt as if she herself were serene and pure; her life was clean and new. Nothing existed before this moment. This moment she was re-created. God was a comfortable, close friend. He softly touched her shoulder. All was well on her cloud-berg.
[Suddenly the scene changed. The clouds turned black and threatening. The sea became wild and foamy. Mary's boat careened dangerously in mountainous waves. Rain whipped her face. Her drenched hair clung to her neck. She was thrown from side to side as waves slammed into her craft. Exhilaration turned into terror as her boat rocketed down one wave into the trough, then was buried by the next. Mary lost control -- totally at the mercy of the raging elements.
[With great effort, her frail craft made its way back to the surface, painfully staggering up the next mountain. Suddenly Mary felt a chill. She looked over her shoulder. What she saw froze her blood. A wave five times bigger than the biggest wave raised up, towering over her head. With a roar, it crashed down on Mary and her tiny craft. Mary lost consciousness. She was going down, down, down. She couldn't breathe. Then, out of the blackness, Mary felt something grip her shoulder. When she awoke she was safe. She opened her eyes, expecting to see the face of God. Instead, she saw the face of Joe.]
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