Recently I heard a short story about a carpenter who was hired to assist in the restoration of an old farmhouse. The carpenter had just finished a pretty rough first day on the job—a flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his old pick-up refused to start.
As the owner of the farmhouse was driving the carpenter to his home, the carpenter sat in stony silence. Upon arrival, the contractor was invited to meet the carpenter’s family. As they walked toward the front door, the carpenter paused briefly at a small tree, touching the 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. Afterwards, he walked the contractor to the car. As they passed the tree, the contractors curiosity get the better of him. He asked the carpenter about what he had seen him do earlier.
“Oh, that’s my trouble tree”, the carpenter replied. “I know I can’t help having troubles on the job, but one thing is 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 ‘em up, there ain’t nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.”
Perhaps each of us could use a trouble tree so to leave the concerns of the day outside.