The carpenter I hired to help me renovate an old farmhouse had just completed a difficult first day on the job. A flat tire cost him an hour of work, his electric saw failed, and now his ancient pickup truck refuses to start. While I drove him home, he sat in dead stillness. When I arrived, he welcomed me inside to meet his family. As we moved toward the front entrance, he stopped briefly at a tiny tree and touched the tips of the branches with both hands.

When he opened the door, he experienced an incredible metamorphosis. His tanned face was full of joy as he hugged his two tiny children and kissed his wife.Then he walked me to the car. We passed the tree, and my curiosity got the best of me. I asked him about something I had seen him do earlier.

“Oh, that’s my trouble tree,” he said.” I understand that I can’t help but have problems at work, but one thing is certain: problems do not belong in my home with my wife and children. So I just hang flowers on the tree every night when I get home. Then I pick them up again in the morning. He paused. “Funny thing is,” he grumbled, “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.”