The Trouble Tree

A woman hired a carpenter to help me restore an old farmhouse. He had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw had quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start to take him home.

As I gave him a ride 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 for a second at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with his hands. Continuing, he then walked up the steps and opened the door, seeming to have gone through an an amazing transformation from what I had just seen.

His tanned face was suddenly wreathed with smiles, as he hugged his two small children and gave his aging 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 and in my life, 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 as I leave."

"Funny thing is," he smiled, "When I come out in the morning to pick 'em up ,there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

Thanks to Vina of Western North Carolina