This might be the most important story you ever hear

A farmer, a poor man, has one precious, beautiful horse. It's so beautiful that everybody wants it, including the king, and the king sends messengers down regularly to the farm. They come, they knock on the door, and they offer the farmer riches, wealth, land — whatever he wants — because the king wants that beautiful horse. And every single time, without fail, the farmer has the same response: kindly, no. He wants to keep his horse. And some time later, after the last messengers came offering him more and more riches, even than the time before, somebody accidentally leaves the gate open to the barn, and the horse bolts. It flees. The farmer lost his one precious white horse.

And all of the people in the town hear about this loss, and all of them come to console him. They knock on his door, they bring food, drink, they come to bring consolation. They say, "We're so sorry. We heard. We can't believe it. This is awful. We heard that you lost that one precious horse. We're so sorry. This is terrible." And the farmer's response puzzles them. He says, "It might be terrible; it might not. Who knows?" And some time later, a couple weeks later, the white horse returns — but not alone. It returns with a dozen beautiful wild horses. And all the townspeople see the horses, they hear about the horses, they come running to console — to congratulate — the farmer. They knock on his door and they say, "This is fantastic! We have to celebrate. You got your one precious horse back, and look, you're now wealthy, rich in horses. This is wonderful." And the farmer says, "It indeed may be wonderful; it might not. Who knows?"

And the people again are puzzled, and they eventually leave. And sometime later, the farmer's one handsome young son, in his teens, climbs up on one of the wild horses and he rides it, and he gets thrown, and he falls to the ground, breaking many of the bones in his body. And the townspeople come running back to the farmer with consolation. They come to say, "It's so awful. We heard what happened. We heard — this is your only son, that handsome, strong boy, now injured, now unable even to move, so many bones broken in his body. You must be so unhappy. This is so awful." And the farmer says, "Thank you. It indeed might be awful; it certainly seems so. But who knows?" The people don't know what to make of the story. They don't understand his responses, and they leave.

And several months later, there's a great war, and nearly all the young men from that village, that town, the entire kingdom, go off to war — but not the farmer's son, because of his injuries. And many of them never returned from the war. And the farmer, one day, stands next to his son. He looks out the window at the horses outside, and he says, "Maybe now I understand why I lost my white horse. Who knew if it was for good or for bad? Then only time would tell."

I tell you that story not because you necessarily are a farmer, have a horse or a son, but because all of us are living this story in our lives. In our work lives we have setbacks and disappointments; we have celebrations; we raise glasses and cheer one another on; we congratulate ourselves when things go well. We believe we know the outcomes when life presents realities to us — but not necessarily outcomes. So maybe, as you move forward this week, in the days ahead, you can think about this story, maybe share it with other people, have conversations about it, see what other people make of it, and ask people close to you, professionally and personally, if there's any relevance to any of the things that you've already experienced in your life. I look forward to seeing you next time.