THE RUNWAY

THE RUNWAY - a Story about the Rapture
Based on a True Story

By Victoria Christine Bingham © August 19, 2015 

Recently an old and solitary man became beloved all over Russia and the recipient of numerous awards. The man lived in a village in the far reaches of a nation whose land mass, at 6 million square miles, encompasses a 1/6th of the earth’s dry ground, yet contains just 143 million people. That is, 44 times the size of Germany, Russia houses only twice the number of people. Its emptiness is almost incomprehensible.

The country is filled with of an unparalleled array of beautiful albeit inhospitable regions, such as endless forests and grasslands, frozen deserts, crystal clear bodies of water, rugged mountains, and austere marshes beaten throughought the year by unrelenting winds. A plane needing to land in an emergency in Russia, would face a formidable version of Russian Roulette.

*****
Most of his life, the old man labored as the grounds keeper in an airport in this town. He had grown up here. The area once had a village, a school, a small population and a small airport. Over time the people went away. The schools closed first. Then the stores, and finally the airport lay silent; unused. Though after the last plane flew off and the ticket agents shuttered their cash registers and cubicles for the last time, the man continued to go daily to the airport, and fulfill his list of familiar chores.

For 20 years, day in and day out; with the rising and sometimes not setting sun, through changing trees and stunning winters, the man labored unnoticed. No one saw his good works. No one thanked him or acknowledged his efforts. He received no compensation or salary, just the inner satisfaction of a 'mission accomplished'.

In the eyes of the world he would be considered a failure, an oddity, crazy. But he persisted, 2, 5, 10, then 20 years after the airport closed - continuing to lye bathe the lobby and vestibules, pull the vigorous weeds from the runways in the short growing season, and shovel from the runway the prodigious snowfall of the region’s interminable winters.0

He labored on as for an unseen employer.

And so the stage was set.

*********

The Airplane was loaded to capacity with 158 passengers and a crew of 7. Somewhere over the expanse of the northern steppe, an engine sputtered and failed. The remaining engine wheezed and coughed under its exaggerated load as if also wishing to capitulate. The plane was on a cross continental flight with thousands of miles yet to go before reaching the safety of the airport. Visions of death and destruction raced in his mind as the pilot radioed mayday to a control tower, frantically hoping for help.

The air traffic control dispatcher was an old man. He had been at his post for over 30 years. When he got the pilots mayday, he thought he could recall - in the reaches of his mind - an airport that had once been active somewhere near the area where the troubled plane’s distress call had come. Though it crossed his mind that should he locate the old airport’s coordinates, the pilot might not even find the runway- as indigenous, quick growing vegetation would most likely have rendered it indistinguishable from the surrounding coniferous forest.

Still, it was a glimmer of hope in a desperate situation. Finding the coordinates, the control tower issued them to the pilot who steered his trembling craft in the direction of what he prayed would be the salvation of them all.

After what felt like ages, at last a view began to appear over the tops of a million trees. The pilot’s mouth fell open. What he saw was the stuff of dreams. He checked himself repeatedly to see if he was awake or asleep.
A runway, in perfect repair, clear of debris and completely visible, was laid out beyond the plane. In an unfathomable stroke of providential favor, they were right in line with the splendidly inviting - if narrow - landing strip.

*****

It was a tale 20 years in the making. All the pilot had to do was head steadfastly forward. He grabbed a hold of himself, then the landing gear, and brought the plane down. Flawlessly. The wheels embraced the earth, then rolled along a runway that was as clean as anything the pilot had ever seen in Moscow, or even Helsinki.

Fully aware that a miracle had just taken place, the passengers and crew burst into THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE. The clapping went on and on and on. The tears were tears of great joy.

Then he came. A solitary man, with measured steps, made his way slowly across the ancient tarmac. The airport caretaker received the safely-arrived passengers and led them to the airport’s lobby, each of them regarding him in awe.

Russia also thundered her applause. The papers were filled with testimonies of the event. Soon the man’s name was known in every corner of the country; from the least to the greatest.

*****
The saints had made it to the narrow gate; They pinched themselves to see if they were dreaming as they coursed through the skies and above the clouds. Their minds raced with unfaded recollections of what seemed like ages of weight lifted from their backs. The sounds of sighing competed with the rushing winds.

As they were landing they were greeted with thunderous applause. The runway was lined with thousands upon thousands of white clad angelic hosts, cheering, clapping, and shouting. The roar was almost deafening.

Then they saw him..

The saints watched in awe as a solitary man approached with measured steps and a face as radiant as the sun. The Lord held out his hands and greeted the travelers, thanking them for their years of faithful, often thankless labors. The tears rolled freely down their faces; they were tears of great joy.

And he welcomed them into the lobby of a mansion, prepared for them from before the foundations of the world.

The Beginning.