THE TROUBLE TREE
The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old firehouse 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. 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 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."
by Author Unknown |