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."
 

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