Where do you leave your troubles?

Lately, it seems as if I’ve acquired a new shadow: trouble. Everywhere I go and with each endeavor I undertake, there seems to be a fresh hassle, or a new worry tacked on. I liken the frustrations of daily life to stepping into a patch of sticky gum on a dirty sidewalk. Avoidable? Maybe. But extricating oneself is certainly messy and complicated. 

Frustration and lamenting aside, how does one deal with a mounting list of troubles?

I’m a Florida snowbird, so I receive the newsletter from my home parish, Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago, by email. One of the Rector’s recent columns struck a chord with me. Here’s the story, Fr. Greg shared:

I hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse, and 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 my 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 children. So, I just hand 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.” 

This reminder to, literally, leave your troubles at the door is very difficult to achieve. Yet, I love the simplicity of the story’s lesson: to be conscious of what distractions we bring into our homes and relationships; and to allow time, prayer, or reflection to grace us with a renewed perspective. 

As we enter the holiday season, I hope you will join me in the act of being more deliberate about distilling worry out of the time we spend with loved ones. In the spirit of Fr. Greg’s message, I placed a small waste basket inside the door from my garage. Each time I enter through that door, I dump my daily concerns. At first, this effort seemed, well, silly. But now, the shedding has become a welcome habit. As a result, I stroll into my home a little less distracted and more present with the folks I treasure. 

Whether it’s the imaginary effort of placing your troubles on a tree, depositing them in a trashcan, or parking them in a locked car, this coping strategy is worth a try. And wherever you drop your troubles, think about leaving them there longer than is comfortable. 

During the weeks ahead, I wish you peace and joy. Fewer troubles, too. 

xo Julie

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