The anticipation builds each time the automatic doors open and close and open again, releasing sporadic bursts of weary travelers from Salt Lake City International Airport’s secured terminal to baggage claim.
Amy Nelson’s eyes are glued to the row of doors, waiting for her son, Kaysen Sperry, to walk through.
Sperry, a missionary with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, is arriving home to Utah after embarking on a yearslong journey proselytizing in Peru with limited opportunities to communicate with family.
“We waited two years for this moment,” Nelson says, surrounded by family. “So it’s exciting.”
Emotional welcomes are common at airports everywhere — witness the closing moments from the popular holiday film “Love Actually” — but the scenes of returning Latter-day Saint missionaries embracing family members after months upon months away from home occur more often in Salt Lake City, the epicenter of Utah’s predominant faith, than anywhere else in the world.
Turn to your right while leaving the airport terminal and you’ll often see large crowds of families, friends and neighbors with signs, Mylar balloons and eager facial expressions.
And Salt Lake City International Airport planned for it all.
When the new airport took flight in 2020, it debuted a lounge just outside the terminal to give families a space to wait for loved ones returning home.
“I’m guessing there isn’t another space like this in any, at least U.S., airport,” says Bill Wyatt, the airport’s executive director. “It’s very unique.”
All visitors are welcome to the greeting room, recently named after former U.S. Sen. Jake Garn. It features video boards to check flight statuses, a restaurant and plenty of places for families to take a seat and catch up after time apart.
Before the new airport opened, Wyatt recalls, officials gave a tour to the church’s top leaders in the governing First Presidency.
“They all came out, and I don’t think really had a clear understanding that the city and the airport had created this space,” he says. “They were obviously very touched.”
Missionary homecomings can attract large crowds, and when they see their returning daughters and sons walk through the exit doors, Wyatt can hear their cheers from his faraway office.
“There aren’t many places in the country where you’re going to have that kind of experience,” the executive director says, “and it’s really pretty sweet.”
Sperry’s return is no exception, drawing about three dozen friends and family members. They hold Peru’s flag, wave a cutout of Sperry’s face, and grasp signs that say, “Mission accomplished” and “Hug me first.”
They line the edge of the greeting room until Sperry, sporting the standard white shirt, tie and name badge, finally walks out of the terminal, his black dress shoes tattered from two years of trekking through South America.
His return ends the way these reunions often do. A gasp and a cheer, followed by hugs and tears.
It is overwhelming, Sperry says, but in a good way.
“I’m still trying to soak it all in; it’s so crazy,” he says. “It still doesn’t feel quite real yet.”
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