When God created penguins, I bet the angels giggled. There are few creatures, I believe, as entertaining, and today, when I met Haley, a young gal who works in Antarctica during the winter months, I learned a few things about their behavior.

Haley shared that in her area penguins rule, and with no fear of humans, they come by to hang out, occasionally bringing presents like rocks or dead fish which they lay at her feet. For the most part they are friendly, unless being tagged by scientists; then they slap their flippers against the workers’ shins, leaving them badly bruised. Haley had proof.

Penguins there are well protected. One day, when a helicopter was needing to land and a group of penguins chose the runway for their squatters’ hangout, a “penguin manager” had to be called to use his expertise to not agitate (or touch) the animals while encouraging them to waddle off to another location. Only because the pilot radioed that he had 15 minutes of fuel left were the seabirds relocated. It was a really, really big deal. Each country involved in Antarctica’s scientific study and international treaty had to be alerted to the penguin conundrum.

Haley said that the environmentalists have protected the Antarctic in regards to everything having the potential to endanger species or trash the continent. Since the ocean is not to be used as a garbage bin, food scraps are smashed into special boxes which are loaded onto freighters and taken to the West coat of the U.S. where they are discarded.

I know all of this—and more than I have room to write– only because I asked questions. Many questions.

Earlier that day, Dave and I had played pickleball with Haley’s parents where I learned that one daughter played volleyball, one had been in musical theatre, and one loved the environment.

After our games, we met for breakfast where their daughter Haley joined us, and I asked her which child she was. She laughed and answered that she was the “middle child, no one special.”

When I questioned what she did for a living, she said that she scheduled helicopters.

Pretty boring, I thought, but I continued prodding, only to find she had a double degree in molecular science and international finance, was an Alaska guide, had gone on a 72-day kayak trip and now lived in Antarctica.

“No one special”? This gal was off the charts with what she had accomplished in her 20+ years.

Mind you, Haley volunteered none of this information. I had to pry it out of her, but soon her answers were longer than just a few words as she saw my excitement in learning about an area of the world I probably never would visit.

Not only was I blessed, but so was Haley, the “middle child, no one special,” as she felt edified and appreciated. You see, everyone has a story.

EVERYONE! Not one of God’s creations is “no one special,” and a Christian’s responsibility, I believe, is to make sure that they know it.

Jesus was the master at engaging the “no one specials.” Read John 4:1-30 where he encounters the woman at the well and changes her life because her story was important to him.

If we don’t give others a chance to share their stories, not only do we lose, but so do they. Sometimes we just have to be willing to ask.