On that morning, the first rays of a rising sun skipped across the tips of the forested canopy as if to tickle them awake in the anticipation of a day rising. And I will tell you, sitting with God each morning has never ceased to tickle me awake in the exact same way.

When you sit and talk with the Creator of the Universe before the day begins, you don’t need to worry about how it will end.

It was the entirely unexpected and sorely welcomed song of a single robin in the waking hours of a new morning that reminded me that this day will not be what I make it. Rather, it will be what I permit God to bring into it. And so my prayer is that my days will always be filled with robins.

Out in nature each day starts by being soft, quiet in a sacred sort of way, gentle in the act of stepping into the awaiting day, and seemingly reflective in it all. And in wondering why God shaped it that way, I have come to realize that to start the day in any other way is not to start the day.

What I liked about fishing at the break of day was to be a spectator to the whole of nature gently arousing itself from sleep. And it always seemed that part of that awakening was a fresh sense that this day was not ‘another day,’ for there is no such thing when the world awakens in this manner. Rather, every day was a ‘new day.

This is not a morning like any other because the world never wakes up exactly the same and neither do you. And so today you have opportunities like none other.