Mountain wisdom is honed from stories told by "sky pilots", as mountain missionaries are called. In a Ralph Connor book, a wild, wilful lass, Gwen, always accustomed to having her way, meets with a terrible accident which cripples her for life. When she is in a rebellious and aggressive state, a sky pilot who visits her teaches her the value of gentleness, meekness and acceptance of suffering, which are today considered questionable virtues.
The sky pilot tells her the parable of the canyon. At first, there were no canyons, only the broad, open prairie. The Master of the Prairie one day walked through its tall grasses and asked the Prairie: "Where are your flowers?" The reply was: "Master i have no seeds".
The Master spoke to the birds. The birds carried seeds of every kind of flower and strewed them far and wide. All summer long the prairie bloomed with crocuses, roses, buffalo beans, crowfoot, wild sunflowers and red lilies. The Master was pleased, but he missed the flowers he loved best - the clematis, the columbine, sweet violets, windflowers, ferns and flowering shrubs.
Once again the Master spoke to the birds. Again they carried all these seeds and strewed them far and wide. But the winds swept fiercely, the sun beat mercilessly. The flowers did not remain. They either flew or withered away.
Then, the Master spoke to the Lightning, who in one swift blow cleft the prairie to the heart. The prairie rocked and groaned for many a day in agony, mourning over its gaping wound. But, the river poured its waters through the cleft and carried down deep black mound. Once again the birds strewed seeds, this time in the canyon. The rough rocks were soon covered with soft mosses and trailing vines. Clematis and columbine grew from every nook. Great elms lifted their huge tops high up into the sunlight. At their feet clustered low cedars and balsams. Violets, windflower and maidenhair bloomed. The canyon became the Master's favourite resting place. The sky pilot said, love, joy, peace can bloom in the open, but gentleness and meekness grow only in the canyon. Gwen listened to the story and was quiet.
Wistfully, she said: "There are no flowers in my canyon, only ragged rocks". The sky pilot said gently: "Someday they will bloom. The Master will find them".
Left to ourselves, none of us would like to be cleft and have gaping wounds. But there are sometimes strokes of lightning in our lives - the Master's touch. Suddenly, somehow we are struck by pain, illness, misunderstanding, and ever so often rejection. Our hearts are cleft leaving a gaping canyon. The river of life flows on and keeps filling the canyon. Seeds that would not remain and which we could not retain - of nobility, selflessness, sacrificial love, suddenly take root and blossom. Our hearts become more compassionate and open, inviting birds of every sort carrying seed of every sort. Our canyons are transformed by amazing grace to become home to every tree, shrub and flower. They become the Master's haunt.
Sometimes, the choicest blooms do not grow in protected hot houses. Rather you may find them growing on the roughest and craggiest of terrains.