A letter for Tracey

By the Rev. Darlene L. Kelley

Editor’s note: Tracey Wise, a member of O’Neal Street United Methodist Church, Newberry, passed away recently, and her unexpected loss prompted her former pastor to pen this tribute.

Dear Tracey, I’m sorry I didn’t write your story while you were still living. We talked about it; I even took some notes. But then the weeks turned to months, and you were gone so suddenly and way too soon.

I thought we had more time. Now it’s too late for you to see your picture in the paper; it’s too late to show the neighborhood another deep breathing, grace-filled example of God’s healing and transforming love.

Everybody at O’Neal Street United Methodist Church was so proud of you. You had so many good friends there, so many people who knew you and loved you and counted on you. How nice to carry copies of the paper around in the van, giving them out and having to ask for more copies because so many people wanted their own.

Your councilwoman and friend, Jackie Holmes, beaming with satisfaction, would have carried a copy of that paper to the City Council and shown it to the mayor. You’d hear Pastor Ed say nice things about you from the pulpit, a copy of the paper with your story prominently displayed in the narthex, everybody in the neighborhood talking and passing that newspaper around. Donations may have landed in the mailbox, inspired by your story; a few generous folks may have opened their hearts and their checkbooks when they read about you.

I wanted to tell folks how far you’d come. I wanted your story to be a witness, a testimony to what God can do when a woman decides to walk in the Spirit. I wanted to let them know the shame and the secrets you were ready to share:

Tracey Wise knows what it feels like to be homeless.

She knows what it’s like to walk the streets looking for a safe place to rest, a clean glass of water, something to eat.

Tracey knows what it’s like to lay awake in the back of an abandoned building, terrified and alone, praying hard and playing over and over the repeating nightmare of bad decisions and wrong people she walked with to get there.

Tracey knows long days when it was too hot and longer nights when it was too cold, and on those long days and nights, Tracey turned to God.

“If I didn’t believe in God, I would have never gotten through.” I can still hear your voice, Tracey. I wanted to tell folks all the amazing things you told me about the kind of faith it takes to turn your life around, about how our God is a God of reconciliation and new life, and that with our God all things are possible, even climbing up from homelessness and addiction to a life full of optimism and service.

I wanted to tell folks how impressive you were, working with your friend, Mary Beth, giving out colorful leis and “Jesus Loves Me” stickers, along with encouragement and hugs at the local elementary school on Career Day. I wanted to tell folks how you drove around looking for the least among us, feeding the hungry and reaching out to the lost, blind and forsaken, side by side with Mary Beth, missionaries with a good, hot meal, women working hard to do all they could to rescue and love. I wanted to tell folks your story, how you asked God for a second chance and vowed to help others if you ever got that second chance.

“That’s why I wanted to start helping people after I got back on my feet,” you said. “I know what it’s like to lose your way and lose a lot of things in the process.”

I wanted to tell folks how faithfully you kept that vow, forming bonds and ladling out inexhaustible encouragement. In the world of addiction, the victories don’t come around often enough, so it’s important to celebrate salvation when you can. I wanted to tell folks what it was like to go to the local Huddle House and celebrate with Tracey Wise. There will be happy voices calling out and hugs before you get seated at a table. Tracey knows one of the cooks, who leaves her station at the grill to wrap her arms around Tracey’s neck with the deep affection earned through shared struggle.

“Sally is doing great,” Tracey explains to those gathering. “She’s one of the folks we’ve helped at 4Real 2nd Chances. Sally needed just a bit of help getting a job, and now she’s been working here for eight months and she loves it. She loves cooking, and she’s doing great.”

Tracey was a cheerleader for others, a champion for recovery, smiles of hope for the lost and a personal path reflecting the light of Christ for those seeking a way back to family and community and truth. She was a primary source, a firsthand account and the real deal for those who are willing to see that falling to your knees is usually the first step in rising up. Tracey recovered so much and so many of the people she lost, she was now working full time to help others recover.

Modeling Jesus and his lost sheep, Tracey kept the lights on for folks lost in their own wilderness. She called out to them from the edge of the dark forest of risky behavior and demon gin, meth, cocaine, deadly fentanyl, depression and anxiety, illness and trauma and sleeping outside in a ditch. Whatever your stumbling block or drug of choice, Tracey called out and told you to climb in the warm van of compassion to a church that celebrated the lost and the least and knew what the love of neighbor Jesus preaches really looks like when the Word becomes flesh and walks in hungry and lame.

Tracey confessed and apologized and took all the steps that walked the walk to regain trust and reignite mission. Then she gave God the glory and prayed so hard for love to win that her heart burst.

So, I am sorry, Tracey. Sorry I waited until your heart stopped to herald the strength of its love and faith and generosity of spirit.

But I know you have forgiven me because that’s the kind of sweet soul you carry to eternity.

With love, Pastor Kelley

Inspired by Luke 15:1-7