THE RUNWAY - BASED ON A TRUE STORY

a story to bless and encourage the weary saints..

The Runway 

Based on a True Event in Russia.

A Short Story By Victoria JeanChristine ©

Recently an old and solitary man became beloved all over Russia, and the recipient of numerous prestigious awards.

The man lived in a village, in the far reaches of a nation whose land mass, at 6 million square miles, encompasses a full 6^th of the earth’s dry ground, yet holds a mere 143 million people. With 44 times the land mass of Germany, Russia houses only twice the number of people - its emptiness is almost incomprehensible.

The enormous country is composed of an vast 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 would face a formidable version of Russian Roulette.

*****

For years, a man had labored as the grounds keeper in an airport in Russia’s Far East. He had grown up here. The area 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.  When the last plane flew off, and the ticket agents shuttered their cash registers and cubicles for the last time. The man, however, continued to what he knew best, going daily to the airport to fulfil his list of chores.

For 20 years, day in and day out; with the rising and sometimes absent sun; through changing trees; and stunning winters; the man labored – unnoticed. 

No one saw his good works – no one praised him or acknowledged his efforts. He received no just compensation or salary, only the inner satisfaction of a job well done.  In the eyes of the world he would be considered a failure; an oddity; crazy even.

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. He labored on as for an unseen employer. So the stage was set.

*****

The Ilyshin jet was loaded to capacity with 120 passengers and a crew of 9. Somewhere over the expanse of the northern steppe, an engine sputtered and failed. The remaining engine wheezed under its exaggerated load and coughed as if it wished also 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 in a helpless situation.

The 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 from 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 indiginous, 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.

When 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.  And in an unfathomable stroke of providential favor, they were right in line with the splendidly inviting landing strip.

*****

It was theater, with the scenario 20 years in the making.  All the pilot had to do was step out onto the stage, into the lights, and play his part. He grabbed ahold 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 of the miracle that 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 by all, from the least to the greatest.

*****

The saints 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 ages and 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 runways were 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. And he welcomed them into the lobby of a mansion, prepared for them from before the foundations of the world.

The beginning.