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 stoney 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 hehugged his two small children andgave his wife a kiss.


Afterward, he walked me to my 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 Icome out in the
morning to pick them
up, there aren't nearly as many as I
remember hanging up the night
before."

Author unknown.