The carpenter I hired to help me restore
an old farmhouse had just finished a
rough first day on the job.
A flat
tire made him lose an hour of
work, his electric saw quit and now his
ancient pickup truck refused to
start.
While I drove him home, he sat in stony
silence. On arriving, he invited me in
to meet his family. As we walked
toward the front door
he paused briefly at a small tree,
touching the tips of the branches with
both hands.
After opening the door
he underwent an amazing transformation.
His tanned face was wreathed in smiles
and he hugged his two small children and
gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he
walked me to the car. We passed the
tree and my curiosity got the better of
me. I asked him about what I had seen
him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he
replied. "I know I can't help having
troubles on the job, but one thing for
sure, troubles don't belong in
the house with my wife and the
children. So I just hang them up on the
tree every night when I come home.
Then in the morning I pick them up
again."
"Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I
come out in the morning to pick'em up,
there ain't nearly as many as I remember
hanging up the night before."
Author unknown