We often carry the unseen burden of daily anxieties, which can inadvertently affect those we care about most. But is there a way to truly lighten our hearts?
Cast off your worries as you would your clothes before slipping into bed,” said Napoleon Bonaparte. This power ful motto serves as a reminder that we all grapple with our anxieties, which often disrupt our lives. I recently came across a compelling story on a website that offers valuable insights on overcoming these challenges. Let’s explore how we can free ourselves from this emotional weight and nurture a brighter outlook.
The story on the website recounted the experience of a carpenter hired to restore an old farmhouse. It had been a challeng ing day for him: he had just finished a tiring shift, and the surveyor’s actions had cost him another hour of work. To make matters worse, his electric saw had stopped functioning, and his old van refused to start when he was finally ready to go home. His employer drove him back, and he remained silent throughout the journey.
Upon arriving at his desti nation, the carpenter invited his employer inside to meet his family. As he walked toward his front door, he paused briefly by a small tree, gently touching its branches with both hands. When he opened the door, a smile appeared on his face, transforming him into a completely different person.
He tenderly hugged his children and kissed his wife. The evening unfolded peacefully, filled with chatter and laughter. Later, as the carpenter accom panied his employer to the car, he passed by the tree again and asked what was so special about it, noting how just touching it had shifted his mood. Curiosity sparked in him, and he asked how that brief touch had completely changed his mood. The carpenter explained, “That’s my trouble tree. I know I can’t avoid unexpected events and worries at work, but I also know that I don’t have to take this burden home with me and share it with my wife and children. So, every evening when I get home, I hang my troubles on this tree. In the morning, I take them back. The funny thing is that when I leave home the next day, I always find fewer worries than I remember hanging the night before.”
It’s a wonderful strategy, as a Swedish proverb notes, “Worries allow even small things to cast long shadows.” If we try to remem ber what worried us a year ago, we might not even be able to recall it. Yet, there can also be worries so great and recurring that they ruin our lives and rob us of our peace of mind. St. Ignatius of Loyola said that Satan tempts us with future worries, drawing us into a cycle of anxieties that distract us from God and His love.
This brings us to the idea of the “tree of worries.” This is a psychological technique for managing stress and apprehension. But we know well where to hang our worries. A hymn written by St. Venantius Fortunatus around the year 570 speaks of this tree: “Crux fidelis, inter omnes arbor una nobilis; nulla talem silva profert, flore, fronde, germine,” which means, “Faithful Cross, among all trees the only noble one: no forest produces one like it in terms of branches, flowers, and fruit.” This text is sung during Holy Week to exalt the Cross of Jesus Christ, the true tree of salvation that replaces the tree of the fall in Genesis: “The Creator himself destined a piece of wood to remedy the damage caused by wood.” We can hang all our worries on that cross, knowing that Christ takes upon Himself all our strug gles, welcoming them to lead us to His rest. After all, “Worries are like a treadmill: they tire you out, but they don’t get you anywhere.” (J. Picoult).