What I saw at the airport

I was in the airport the other day returning home from my sisters shower. While I was waiting for my flight to board, I sat in a chair across from my gate and therefore had an excellent view of all my fellow passengers. But really I was only watching one. And so was everyone else. He was a marine. He was very tall and he was standing very straight and carrying his hat in the strangest way. His left arm was bent at a 90 degree angle and the hat was perched on top of his perfectly flat hand. He walked all around the gate area this way for at least 30 minutes. At first I scoffed - why didn't he just put his hat down. Or if he was afraid of smashing it, put it on his head. I mean his arm must have been getting tired. But then I started noticing other things. Like his shoes. They were the shiniest black shoes I have ever seen (and both of my girls have black patent leather mary janes). Clearly those black shoes had recently been polished within an inch of their life. Did you know that there are people that still polish their shoes? And his shirt. Immaculately pressed. Sure people iron their shirts every day ... but 20 year old boys? And he stood so straight as if at attention even though there was no one else from the military around.

Then we boarded the plane. My seat was next to a young man with a missionary name tag. Although I had spent the whole day putting my foot in my mouth, apparantly I just can't get enough of the taste of shoe leather so I opened my mouth once again and said. " Elder, where are you headed?" "Home to Boise." he said. "Home to Boise!! How exciting!!" I said "Where are you coming from?" "The MTC." He told me that he had a few things at home that he needed to work through. So I took a vow of silence and decided that I will never speak again. --When I told Nate this story he explained that the spirit at the MTC is so strong that it is difficult for those who are there trying to fake it. The spirit makes you want to tell the truth; to be really worthy. I wished the missionary good luck. I felt a little sorry for him as he looked out the plane window at the black sky.

But as we walked toward baggage claim, I had reason to believe that perhaps I was mistaken. For there was a huge family gathered outside of security with welcome home signs and balloons. And I thought that perhaps this was a happy homecoming after all. So instead of heading right down the escalator, I lingered for just a moment and turned around to see what would happen. But the missionary walked past the balloons and signs and into the arms of one woman that had come to meet him. I saw both of their faces crumple with pain. I saw them hold each other and sob in the middle of the Boise airport. And then I saw the marine. He walked into the middle of the huge family with banners and balloons and received hug after hug with smile after smile. The image of those side by side homecomings has haunted me for the past few days.

I think it's because at the end of the day we all have a homecoming in our future. And I imagine that the spirit there is so strong that you will want to tell the truth and want to be really worthy. So I have been checking my soul to find the dull spots and examining my conduct for the wrinkles, because when it comes right down to it crying makes my face puffy and red and I have always had a thing for balloons.