Centre of Infinity

The Trouble Tree

The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farm house

had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat

tire had caused him to miss an hour of work, his electric

saw quit, and now his ancient pick-up truck refused to start.

As I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. When we arrived

he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked to 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; he hugged his two

small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed by 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, they

don't belong in the house with my wife and children. So, I

just hang them on the tree when I come home in the evening

and then I just pick them up again in the morning."

"Funny thing, though," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning

to pick 'em up, there ain't nearly as many as I remembered

hanging there the night before."