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 my 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
them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night
before."
alx