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