At the beginning of a culture course I taught, students would turn in anonymous questions which were answered throughout the semester as appropriate. One year, a student asked, “Why do Americans always carry a large pack and stride?”

Times have changed since then. More people here carry backpacks, some quite roomy, and their pace has sped up at least a bit. Still, that student’s query came to mind while I was out hiking last week. As I enjoyed the beauty of Creation, my pace was measured, slower than my local counterparts, but my pack was large. Since I was out all day alone in unfamiliar territory, I’d prepared like my student’s idea of an American. I was ready for any eventuality—extra layers, plenty of water and food, knee brace, notebook and pen for writing, hat, tissues, lip balm, hand sanitizer, band-aids… Of course, all these accoutrements required the larger of my two hiking packs, the one with a waist strap.

Slowly making the ascent, I smiled to myself as I wondered what fellow hikers thought of my large pack. Then, on the way down, I passed a couple. She was lugging a plastic grocery sack filled with various snacks and bottles of water, presumably purchased from the vendors at the bottom of the mountain. In the man’s bag, cradled safely under his arm, was half a watermelon. Perhaps, they were jealous of my waist-strap-equipped pack which lightened my load. In turn, I admired their ability to live in the moment, ready to enjoy a refreshing treat together in view of the waterfall at the top.

A few minutes later, I passed a trio attempting to take a selfie and offered to help. As I clambered down to their level, they reached out helping hands and expressed concern for my safety. Then, after the photo, one of the three boosted me back up on the trail, hands on my waist. On U.S. hiking trips a similar sense of camaraderie develops with fellow hikers. I can even picture someone offering a hand to help a stranger, but would someone ever put their hands on my waist out of (largely unneeded) concern for my safety?

“Waistful” moments like these used to bring me discomfort, sometimes even indignation that someone thought I couldn’t care for myself. At times, I looked on others with disdain that they couldn’t be as _____ as I was. Though I still struggle to be gracious, “waistful” moments have taken on another meaning for me and are more likely now to bring on a bout of affectionate giggling. They can also be a further reminder of the beauty of Creation. Human beings weren’t designed to be exactly the same. Each society’s habits and practices are a colorful array of the Creator’s image, every individual endearingly unique in Creator-honoring ways.

Instead of wasting time misjudging differences and bemoaning parts marred by sin, I wish I were better at approaching “waistful” moments by searching out and celebrating Beauty in societies and individuals.

Every single one.

The woman placing her hands on my waist to give me a boost.

The man cradling half a watermelon while hiking up a mountain.

The woman riding her motorbike on the sidewalk instead of the road.

The man who nudges his child to point out the foreigner.

The person whose life choices make me very uncomfortable.

The political figure I can’t stand.

The sister or brother whose disdain for others I disdain.

Every single one.