The Parable of the Rancher

Once upon a time in the land of Bor, there was a rancher named Bock, who ran a small ranch. Now, this ranch was only a tiny unimportant parcel in the kingdom, and the rancher thought his ranch stunk (the rest of the world disagreed), but he was proud of his horses. He was determined to have the finest team of horses in the entire kingdom, so King Philip would pat him on the back and give him a big raise. And let him run a ranch that didn't stink.

He had a draft horse, a shetland pony, and a thoroughbred race horse. He worked out a plan, and carried it out. On mondays, he would hitch the three horses to the plow and plow his field. On tuesdays, he would take them to the race track and have them practice racing. On wednesdays he would take the horses to town and have them give rides to children from the kingdom. On thursdays, he would take them back to the field for some more plowing, and on fridays they would go to the race track and compete in a real race.

At the end of the quarter, he reviewed their performance. He lined them all up, and to the thoroughbred horse he said, "You're not meeting expectations. Sure, you come in third in the race every week, but you know you can do better than that."

"Give me an extra three days a week to practice, and I'd come in first with no other horse close," thought the thoroughbred. "And I absolutely love to run!" But the rancher did not understand.

"And besides that, the field is not getting plowed. There are weeds all over it, and places we've never even plowed this whole quarter!" he said to the draft horse.

"I'd be able to plow the whole field if you didn't make me pretend to be something I'm not twice a week, and make me drag along that wimpy pony," thought the draft horse. "And the part I do get plowed gives me a good feeling of accomplishment." But the rancher did not understand.

"And you," he directed to the sad-faced pony, "you keep dropping at the plow, and the only horse you can beat at the track is this draft horse." Both the pony and the draft horse winced as if whipped.

"But the children line up waiting to ride me," the pony thought. "And I love to make them laugh and smile. Surely you noticed that?"

"And none of the children want to ride you, you boring old nag," said the rancher to the draft horse. "And you terrify them to death!" he berated the thoroughbred. "None of you are meeting expectations," he declared.

"We were all meeting expectations just fine, until you showed up with different expectations," they all thought in unison. "Do you have no horse sense at all, that you can't tell we each have different skills, talents, and desires? Or do you just not care that you're wasting our talents?"

But the rancher did not understand.