I learned the poem The Way in my youth. To every man there openeth A Way, and Ways, and a Way, And the High Soul climbs the High Way, And the Low Soul gropes the Low, And in between, on the misty flats, The rest drift to and fro. But to every man there openeth A High Way, and a Low. And every man decideth The way his soul shall go.    -John Oxenham Those “Misty Flats” were my bane.  I was pretty confident that I would not choose the Low Way because of my relationship with Jesus, but the fear of those “Misty Flats,” an apathetic and hazy existence, seemed…