Everybody knows you can’t pick a handful of huckleberries in less than a second. Right? Wrong….

My husband, Gary, and I spent a lazy week in McCall, Idaho, one summer. There in that beautiful, restful setting the one hint of ambition I had was spent in a couple of hours of “huckleberrying” (a verb long known to natives). The berries were sparse and tiny. Heaven only knows why we didn’t give up earlier. But I kept telling myself, each one of these little suckers is a tiny burst of flavor—it won’t take many to make tomorrow’s pancakes a memorable taste treat.

By the time we had picked for two hours my back was talking, mosquito bites itching and I was begging to quit. Gary’s reply trailed in from the distance, “I’ll be finished with this patch in a minute.”

I had visions of plunging into the lake; his visions were of a pie. Now, a pie takes at least four cups of berries, not to mention considerable work and firing up the wood-burning oven in our rustic lakeside cabin. This was my vacation, after all.

Picking baby berries can get dull, causing the mind to wander. In the quiet beauty of the woods it wasn’t long before I was thinking of God’s great extravaganza. Pockets of water cradled in mountains high, standing at wait for seekers of rest and recreation; meadows of wildflowers looking like crowds dressed in violet, yellow and blue; stately pines responding to the whispers of a caressing breeze.

God spared no effort with His creations, right down to the little huckleberry waiting to be plucked—tiny, easy to overlook. Yet, each holds a savory burst of yum.

There seems to be a parallel here. With close to 7.8 billion human beings on the earth it seems incredible that the individual has importance. But like the little huckleberry, each has flavor. Some are bitter; some are sweet; some are sour and some are salty.

Salty! Wasn’t that what Jesus called his followers? A common substance, often taken for granted, yet invaluable when used to preserve, purify and season. Jesus is thinking of us. And, really  . . . are we not?

How sweet it would have been had God said, “You’re my little huckleberries.” But he didn’t. He said, “You are the salt of the earth.” Salt. It almost takes a grimace to say the word. And—whoa! He says, “You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men” (Matthew 5:13-16).

Sometimes we don’t act like salt, but more like the huckleberry—an exotic little temptress or tempter, easily crushed, staining and tainting, and capable of drawing a lot of attention to itself.

On the other hand, how challenging it is to be salt. A preserving, refining, flavorful agent in our own corner of the world.

Meanwhile, back at McCall. Finished with berry picking and headed for “home’s” front door, I hear Gary yell, “Hey, you!”

I turn in time to see a little guy not more than two feet tall making away with a fist full of huckleberries. He had reached deep into Gary’s bucket. Berries tumbled through his little fingers, falling all around his feet.

“Do you know it took hours to pick those?” Gary squalled.

The child looks up with innocence as he hurriedly pokes more berries into his “pie hole.”

Laughter did follow our shock, but inwardly we begrudged our youngest son every berry.

A handful of huckleberries in less than a second? Yes, it is possible. But only if you are a sneaky little snitch lying in wait for a weary-eyed, plodding plucker headed to the lakeside cabin . . . with visions of huckleberries—albeit a cup shy of a full pie.