The Worry Tree
It was a summer Sunday and I was away from my home house sitting for some relatives. I decided to find a church to attend for my weekly mass even though it wasn't my usual comfort zone church. I came across a Catholic church down the road from where I was staying that week and looked up mass times. I arrived early, a little nervous to enter an unfamiliar setting and wanted prime, comfortable seating not too close but not too far away. I found a perfect corner and sat at the end of the pew.
Mass went on as planned, and I enjoyed seeing and hearing the new sights and sounds of a different Catholic family than my usual Sunday churchgoers. During the homily I was particularly enlightened as I listened to a wonderful story that I still carry with me. The priest told a story of a man at work. One afternoon this man had a co-worker over for some office related paperwork, and as they walked into the home of the man, the co-worker noticed an odd gesture.
"Why did you just touch that tree?" the co-worker had asked the man. It looked as if the man reached straight up with both hands to lightly touch the leaves of a tree in his front yard as they walked towards the front steps.
"Oh. This is my worry tree," the man replied.
"What's a worry tree?" asked his curious co-worker. The man went on to explain.
"The worry tree is the tree that I leave my worries in. When I get home from work, there are things that may be bothering me from the work day, but I don't wish to take them inside with me. Inside is my family, my kids, and my wife and I would rather hear about their days and how school was than to tell them about my day at work and the things that are worrying me." His co-worker was intrigued and kept listening. "So I leave my worries in the tree. I take them off my mind and place them on the leaves and I go inside with a clear head. It's a much more enjoyable experience for me and for everyone else inside." The co-worker thought, and continued to listen. "Of course the next morning I always allow myself to pick up my worries as I pass by the tree again on my way out of the house and to work. But by then I find that there are usually many fewer worries than I had the night before."
The co-worker took it all in, and he and the man had an evening of conversation, introduction, and accomplishment.
I sat in church especially intrigued by this story as well. What a smart man he was to leave the less important stress outside as he entered his home with a clear head on his shoulders, ready to take on whatever it was that waited inside. Of course work will always be a part of our lives, there will always be the exceptions to the rules and at times conversations about work must take place inside the home, no matter what. We're human. But for the most part, this man was brilliant. By practicing the movement of physically "leaving his worries on the worry tree," he bettered himself and his family. He reduced stress where he could. He practiced it until it became part of his daily ritual. And the moral of the whole story, was that by the next morning, by the time he had spent the evening at home doing what he loved, he had learned and realized that the big stresses of his days at work, were in fact gone by morning. I knew, as I was sitting in this new church, that there was a reason I ended up at that church to hear that homily. I knew that I needed to take a lesson from this man and learn how to leave the little stressors out of my life, away from the important things and people around me. If we let the little, silly stresses get in between us and our passions, we end up creating more stress and anxiety. If we remove it from the start, life is a whole lot easier. Out of sight, out of mind. I am a worrier, but the idea of creating my own worry tree is particularly enjoyable to me. It's another one of those phrases or commandments that I can practice internally with myself during times of high stress.
Mass went on as planned, and I enjoyed seeing and hearing the new sights and sounds of a different Catholic family than my usual Sunday churchgoers. During the homily I was particularly enlightened as I listened to a wonderful story that I still carry with me. The priest told a story of a man at work. One afternoon this man had a co-worker over for some office related paperwork, and as they walked into the home of the man, the co-worker noticed an odd gesture.
"Why did you just touch that tree?" the co-worker had asked the man. It looked as if the man reached straight up with both hands to lightly touch the leaves of a tree in his front yard as they walked towards the front steps.
"Oh. This is my worry tree," the man replied.
"What's a worry tree?" asked his curious co-worker. The man went on to explain.
The co-worker took it all in, and he and the man had an evening of conversation, introduction, and accomplishment.
I sat in church especially intrigued by this story as well. What a smart man he was to leave the less important stress outside as he entered his home with a clear head on his shoulders, ready to take on whatever it was that waited inside. Of course work will always be a part of our lives, there will always be the exceptions to the rules and at times conversations about work must take place inside the home, no matter what. We're human. But for the most part, this man was brilliant. By practicing the movement of physically "leaving his worries on the worry tree," he bettered himself and his family. He reduced stress where he could. He practiced it until it became part of his daily ritual. And the moral of the whole story, was that by the next morning, by the time he had spent the evening at home doing what he loved, he had learned and realized that the big stresses of his days at work, were in fact gone by morning. I knew, as I was sitting in this new church, that there was a reason I ended up at that church to hear that homily. I knew that I needed to take a lesson from this man and learn how to leave the little stressors out of my life, away from the important things and people around me. If we let the little, silly stresses get in between us and our passions, we end up creating more stress and anxiety. If we remove it from the start, life is a whole lot easier. Out of sight, out of mind. I am a worrier, but the idea of creating my own worry tree is particularly enjoyable to me. It's another one of those phrases or commandments that I can practice internally with myself during times of high stress.
I loved this homily, story, and lesson learned by the co-worker and others listening. I think back on it quite often. Perhaps I have found myself an 11th commandment, a new mantra, or just a simple daily reminder to let things go.
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