The Trouble Tree

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The Trouble Tree


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 tips of the branches with
both hands. When 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's 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."


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