Sometimes I use my feisty 1/2 Irish heritage as an excuse to choose quick temper over patience. I confess. More and more though, I’ve learned that choosing the high road, the open hand held out, leads to better things, and I think I’m starting to get pretty good at making this better choice. This week I had a few lessons in this. I’ve liked this poem for a long time.
Choose – by Carl Sandburg
The single clenched fist lifted and ready,
Or the open asking hand held out and waiting.
Choose:
For we meet by one or the other.
(Poem from Poetry Foundation. Photo from stock.xchng)
Shelf Elf: read, write, rave. 
I need to post that one in my classroom…
Can I blame my 1/8 Irish for my quick temper? And why is it so hard to see the open hand some days? More to the point, hard to BE the open hand you want to see in the world…
Oooh. Love this! And a good reminder before a family vacation:>) Take the high road. Take the high road. Take the high road.
Thanks!