Thinking of flavor-filled times . . .

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 I spent the one hint of ambition I had “huckleberrying” (a verb long known to natives). The berries are sparse and tiny. Heaven alone knows the ups and downs of bending and picking. But I kept thinking of each one of these little suckers as a tiny burst of flavor—and how they would make tomorrow’s pancakes a memorable taste treat.

By the time we had picked for two hours my back was talking and mosquito bites itching, I begged to quit. Gary’s reply trailed in from higher on the hill, “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 berries can get old, 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. Among these towering pines pockets of water are cradled by mountains. Wildflowers in violet, yellow and blue speak volumes while whispers of breeze caress us, the berry-pickers.

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? As we talk and talk with God our hearts become sweet. Yet He pegs us as salt . . . a common substance, invaluable for preserving and purifying—while also serving as a seasoning.

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, capable of drawing a lot of attention to ourselves.

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 heard 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 mouth. Laughter did follow our shock, but inwardly we begrudged this little guy every berry he took!

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 . . . with visions of huckleberries, albeit, now a cup shy of a full pie.