All my life I have risen regularly at four o'clock and have gone into the woods and talked to God. There He gives me my orders for the day.
To rise early is to know the quiet solitude before dawn and look out with anticipation upon the expanse of an unwritten day. The ordained details are unknown to me and that is just as well. If I knew what was coming, I might dive back under the covers, trying in vain to hide.
So when I do get up early and talk to God, mostly I listen. I am asked to trust and leave the details up to Him.
Then I try to obey, as best I can muster. Too often I mess up: I head off in the wrong direction, turn left instead of right, trip over my own feet, fall flat on my face.
So I'm pulled up out of the dirt yet again, dusted off, and sent marching on all day into the sunset, the way clearly demarcated, the pathway straight.
Even I can't miss it and can't mess it up.