Lessons From the Huckleberries
- Liz Collard Arnold
- Sep 1, 2025
- 5 min read
“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor.”
—Ecclesiastes 4:9
One day in August, my husband and I hiked the trail to Strawberry Lake in Montana. The day was clear and cool, the kind of morning where the air feels alive with pine and possibility. Our gait was lighter than usual. My goal was to fill the empty containers Benjamin carried in our backpack with huckleberries. Benjamin’s goal was to reach the lake at the summit.
As we hiked, we searched for the plump little berries that sell for a hefty price in local stores. About halfway up, we noticed bushes heavy with ripe huckleberries, their deep purple fruit a gift tucked among the green. But first—Strawberry Lake.
We stopped to visit with other hikers and berry-pickers making their way down. I silently prayed they wouldn’t strip the bushes bare before we had our chance.
Our happy pace slowed with each switchback—well, mine did. All I could think about were those juicy huckleberries. This was my first time picking them, and I couldn’t wait.
Along the climb, I thought about Benjamin and how much my life had changed since meeting him only two years prior.
Would I have gone picking berries alone? Definitely not—not with the bears waiting in the bushes to eat me. Would I have hiked this 5.6-mile trail just to see Strawberry Lake if I were by myself? Not likely. I would have chosen a three-mile trail. But was I glad to be doing these things now with my new(ish) husband? Absolutely.
I recalled the lonely years leading up to my marriage—painful even to remember.
And then I thought of the words from Ecclesiastes: “Two are better than one...” and pondered the truth of it.
The Grace of Partnership
When we reached the top, the trail opened wide to reveal the lake, a majestic mirror of deep green water reflecting thick pines. The cooler air, laced with the clean scent of fir and damp earth, welcomed us. The climb had been worth it.
After filling our souls with the beauty of the high-country lake, we began the trek back down to the huckleberry bushes. Benjamin stopped at the first patch he saw, but I pressed on, eager to find my own.
I dove in with renewed fervor, picking one at a time, racing to drop as many as I could into the bucket. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. Often, I popped one into my mouth to test its sweetness.
Bending low to reach under the branches cramped my legs, so I plopped down between two bushes, slid my bucket beneath a stem, and plucked until the berries rained softly inside. Slowly, my container filled while purply-blue smudges spread down my fingertips.
Soon, though, I missed Benjamin, and noticed it wasn’t nearly as fun without him. Whether hiking or picking berries, life was better when shared.
That’s the heart of Ecclesiastes 4:9—life is not meant to be carried alone. God designed us for companionship, for partnership, for the kind of togetherness where the load is mutual and the joy is multiplied.
The truth is, it isn’t just about marriage. The principle of “two are better than one” stretches across all of life. God places people in our paths—friends, family, mentors, church communities—so that we do not have to face our journeys in isolation.
For the One Who Walks Alone
Perhaps you are reading this and you’re not married. Maybe you’ve longed for that kind of companionship, but the prayer hasn’t yet been answered—or was answered differently than you hoped. I want to gently remind you that Ecclesiastes doesn’t restrict this truth to spouses.
The passage continues: “If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up!” (v.10). In His faithfulness, God always provides someone—a friend, a sibling, a mentor, even a stranger at the right moment—to extend a hand when we fall.
The enemy of our souls loves isolation. He whispers that we are forgotten, that we have to muscle through life alone. But God’s design is community. Even Jesus, the Son of God, gathered close friends to walk beside Him. If He needed companions on His earthly journey, how much more do we?
So if you find yourself single, don’t dismiss the truth of this verse. Look around. Who has God already placed near you to walk with you, pray for you, or lighten your load? Two are better than one, even if that “one” is a faithful friend or kind neighbor.
Lessons From the Huckleberries
As I think back to that hike, I realize how much the huckleberries mirror life. Alone, I might have gathered enough for a small taste. But with my husband’s help, we had plenty to enjoy together.
Isn’t life just like that? Our efforts can yield something on their own, but when we share the work with others, the return multiplies. Burdens feel lighter. Joy feels fuller. Progress feels steadier. And even the small, ordinary moments—like berry-picking on the side of a trail—become memories of grace.
God didn’t create us to live as islands. He invites us to lean on one another, to cheer each other on, to laugh side by side, and sometimes to weep together. Whether through marriage, friendship, or community, His graciousness is revealed in the gift of together.
A Call to Community
If you have a partner, give thanks. Celebrate the ways God uses your togetherness to bear fruit in your life. I am so grateful for the man God lovingly brought into my story.
If you are walking solo, lift your eyes to see the helpers God has already placed around you. Ask Him to open your heart to community. Sometimes His provision comes not in one lifelong partner but in many companions who walk different stretches of the journey with us.
Together is always better, because God Himself dwells in community—Father, Son, and Spirit. We, made in His image, reflect Him most beautifully when we walk with one another.
Prayer
Father, thank You for the gift of companionship. Thank You for my spouse, for friends, for family, for all the people You weave into my story so I do not have to walk alone. Help me to cherish and nurture these relationships. And when I am tempted toward isolation, remind me that You designed me for connection. May I be as faithful a companion to others as You have been to me. Amen.
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