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."
-- Author Unknown
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