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 the 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 face was wreathed in smiles, and he
hugged his two small children and then gave 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 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 them up, there aren’t nearly as many as
I remember hanging up the night before.”
What do you think about the way
the carpenter chose to deal with his problems? What do you think he
accomplished by leaving his troubles outside of his home?
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