The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farm
house had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire had caused
him to miss an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pick-up
truck refused to start.
As I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. When we
arrived he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked to 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; he hugged his two small children and gave his wife
a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed by 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,
they don't belong in the house with my wife and children. So, I just hang them
on the tree when I come home in the evening and then I just pick them up again
in the morning."
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