Hey Tracie!
It’s been so long. I seriously don’t know how time flies by so quickly. I miss you tons, but, to be honest, it doesn’t seem that long since we’ve chatted.
I think you know how profoundly our friendship has affected my life, but I really feel like I need to publicly thank you for all you’ve sown into my life, whether or not you ever knew it.
I didn’t realize it during our high school years, but you inspired me to live joyfully. Even when we had boy problems, got in trouble for talking in choir or were sad about deeper and more complex issues in our lives, you’d find a reason to smile, then laugh, and then go grocery shopping and make cookies for the soccer team (or the basketball team…or the track team…). You showed me that the simple act of doing something for others turned things around, pulled out smiles and brought joy to everyone around you. Your joy made you shine. As teenagers, I think we took that infectious joy for granted.
You also proved to me in those years that courage shaped character. It wasn’t just because you had the guts to join the military, but you had the gall to join the track team as a senior when most people joined in junior high. You didn’t care that your best friend was younger than you (which was a big deal in high school). And, you weren’t afraid to befriend everyone, regardless of label. You were unashamed about what you believed. You had the courage to live life fully.
More than anything, you taught me about true friendship. Everyone had best friends in high school, and our relationship was no exception. But looking back, you showed me the fullness of friendship…a letter telling me you cared when you knew I was had a bad day…a trip to the grocery store for cookie-making supplies to celebrate successes…tolerance in moments of crabbiness…willingness to talk through tough times…an incomprehensible commitment to people you cared for (including me). After the last time we spoke, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have a best friend again. But, because you taught me how to be a friend, I now have several. I’m convinced my friendships now wouldn’t exist had you not demonstrated the real thing. In fact, my new friendships have now filled the void you left. I know that might sound strangely harsh, but I know you understand. And I know you wouldn’t want it any other way.
Sometimes I feel bad that you weren’t able to be a teacher liked you’d hoped to be. But, I believe you did fulfill that dream. You’ve taught. You’ve inspired. You’ve encouraged. I believe those are traits of the best teachers.
I know it’s been more than 14 years, but you’ve been on my mind a lot lately. No doubt it’s because today is the 34th anniversary of the day you were born. I even went to visit you today, but I knew you wouldn’t be there. Regardless, it meant something to see a little piece of the girl I knew back then.
Sometimes our time apart feels like an eternity. Yet, not a day goes by without me vividly remembering the last time we spoke. You wanted to know what I was doing home on a Saturday night. I laughed and asked you why you called if you thought I should be out! I was busy telling you about the new guy I was dating, you politely complained about having to “guard” the laundry room because people were stealing things. We even talked about the validity of a magazine article about the diminishing respect guys had for girls who put out too much. You know, important 19-year-old-girl stuff. In the moment, it all seemed so trite.
But our conversation that night taught me something I’ll never forget. Nothing is trite. Not words. Not love. Not life.
The day after our conversation I began regretting things. I wished I would have tried harder to listen to the unexpected muffled voice that interrupted our conversation. I wished I would have known something was wrong and called 911 when the phone went dead. But I honestly never knew anything was wrong. I’m sorry.
I’ll never be able to comprehend all you went through that night. I bet it felt like you were stuck in a nightmare – kidnapped, raped, beaten. But since I know what you believed, I know that somehow God gave you peace in the eyes of terror. I know that you spent all of your final hours praying. I also know you knew how much I loved you, even if I didn’t say it that night. Never again will I let anyone wonder what’s in my heart.
You inspired joy. You lived courageously. You taught friendship. Not just to me, but to thousands during your earthly life, and to thousands afterward. In fact, I believe that somehow the story of your life and how you lived changed the heart of the man who ended your life.
Even though you’ve got better things to do these days in eternal glory, I know you still love me, too. Ironically, your life helped fill the hole in my heart after you were gone.
My bestest friend in the whole, wide world…that’s what we called each other…and that’s always how I’ll remember you.
Happy Birthday!
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Today would have been the 34th birthday of Tracie Joy McBride, my best friend from high school. Her life was cut tragically short when she was abducted, raped and murdered in February 1995. Her life profoundly changed many lives, including my own. After 14 years of reflection, I’ve finally been able to articulate how her life contributed to my own life, and how it contributes more to it every single day. I hope that the lessons I learned from her life can be lessons for you as well…Tracie would’ve wanted it that way.
Love leads the way… and it’s what we leave behind…
A couple weeks ago when I was volunteering with some Bloom friends at The Family Place in St. Paul, there was a moment. A moment when I realized that I’m on this journey filled with love and grace with many other people. A moment that was like a rally cry. A moment that was all about love and letting others feel love.