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The Trouble Tree
I hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse,
and after he had just finished a rough first day on
the job: a
flat tire made him lose an hour of work,
his electric drill quit
and his ancient one ton 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.
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, those
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
and ask
God to take care of them.
"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 aren't nearly as many as I remember
hanging up the night before."
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