Trouble Tree


Trouble Tree
Author: Unknown

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 the tips of the branches
with both hands.

After 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 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.”

David John