Gate 67

Last Sunday, a week ago, the First Presidency of the Church gave a Christmas Devotional. It was a wonderful devotional filled with powerful words and beautiful music, but nothing touched me quite like the story President Monson told, I was able to find it on LDS Church News.

"By way of illustration, he spoke of an incident that occurred in December 1970, when an ice storm caused thousands of travelers to become stranded in the airport in Atlanta, Ga., as flights were delayed for many hours, lessening the chances for them to get wherever they most wanted to be for Christmas --— "most likely home."

The midnight hour had tolled and passengers clustered around the ticket counters, conferring with ticket agents.

"When an occasional plane managed to break out, more travelers stayed behind than made it aboard. The words 'standby,' 'reservation confirmed' and 'first class passenger' settled priorities and bespoke money, power, influence, foresight – or lack thereof."

President Monson said Gate 67 in Atlanta was a microcosm of the whole cavernous airport. Except for a few passengers traveling in pairs, there was little conversation. A salesman stared into space, a young mother cradled an infant in her arms and a man in a finely tailored gray flannel suit seemed impervious to the collective suffering. A person observing this busy man might have identified him as an Ebenezer Scrooge.

"Suddenly the relative silence was broken by a commotion. A young man in military uniform, no more than 19 years old, was in animated conversation with the desk agent. The boy held a low-priority ticket. He pleaded with the agent to help him get to New Orleans so that he could take the bus to the obscure Louisiana village he called home.

"The agent wearily told him the prospects were poor for the next 24 hours, maybe longer. The boy grew frantic. Immediately after Christmas his unit was to be sent to Vietnam – where at that time war was raging – and if he didn't make this flight, he might never again spend Christmas at home."

President Monson said the agent was clearly moved but could only offer sympathy – not hope.

Finally, the agent announced that the flight was ready for boarding. Travelers, who had been waiting hours, shuffled onto the plane until there were no more seats. The agent turned to the frantic soldier and shrugged.

"Inexplicably the businessman had lingered behind. Now he stepped forward. 'I have a confirmed ticket,' he quietly told the agent. 'I'd like to give my seat to this young man.' The agent stared incredulously, then he motioned to the soldier. Unable to speak, tears streaming down his face, the boy in olive drab shook hands with the man in the gray flannel suit, who simply murmured, 'Good luck. Have a fine Christmas. Good luck.' "

President Monson said no more than a few among the thousands stranded at the Atlanta airport witnessed the drama at Gate 67. "But for those who did, the sullenness, the frustration, the hostility, all dissolved into a glow. That act of love and kindness between strangers had brought the spirit of Christmas into their hearts." (Taken from "Drama at Gate 67," by Ray Jenkins.) "