We all have people who’ve touched our lives—parents, soulmates, children, grandchildren, friends—and then there are those people who’ve touched our world. Tracey Lynn Everett was one of those.
She was the oldest child of Gary and Shelia Everett, my precious lifelong friends. Her two younger brothers, Brian and Bradley, mirrored my two sons, Brian and Brent, in many ways. The four B’s were almost exact in age, likes and dislikes, and not to mention, partners-in-mischief. Tracey, being the older sister/friend, brought some sanity and calmness to our times together.
Tracey was one of those teenagers who never went astray. You could say she was the model child, the obedient child, the sensible child, the studious child, the perfectly-mannered child, the loving child, and the respectful child. You know what I mean—the good child.
While I have listed many traits to describe Tracey’s character, there is yet another, and perhaps the one most remembered by those who knew her. She was the delightful child. Wherever Tracey was, there was delight—joyful, cheerful, exuberant and overflowing delightfulness!
She brought smiles to the faces of little children, a sense of warmth and belonging to her friends, family, and co-workers; and yes, she brought delight to her parents, teachers, ORU college professors, and those for whom she worked.
Tracey never married, and some might say it was because she didn’t find her soulmate. I reject that idea altogether. I believe Tracey totally found her soulmate—He was also her Savior and Lord, her Best Friend, and her closest Confidant. His name is Jesus, and she loved Him with all she had. She not only sang about Him as the Lover of her soul, she sang to Him in passionate praise and worship.
When Tracey was taken from this earth, some would think her life was cut short, her God had failed her, and we are left with only heart-wrenching sadness. They would bemoan the fact that forty-six years just wasn’t enough. I reject those ideas as well.
I believe that Tracey’s Soulmate left her on earth for as long as He could bear to be apart from her. He was confident that forty-six years was plenty of time to be with her family and friends this side of eternity; and knowing exactly what He was doing, He sent his most-trusted angels to carry her to His side.
It is true that we are left with great sorrow over our loss, an emptiness that words cannot express, and grief that only time can attempt to heal. But our loss is His gain. With that in mind, I would like to turn your attention away from our sadness to another scene, one just as real as our broken hearts.
It is a scene in Heaven. Jesus is there. The Disciples are there. The Patriarchs are there. The Heroes of faith are there. The renowned saints who blazed the trail before us, along with the countless saints whose names we’ve never heard, are all there. Our loved ones—grandparents, moms, dads, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, perhaps even children—who’ve gone ahead of us are there. And now, a place that we thought could not get any brighter is brighter still—because Tracey Lynn is there too.
I believe our sadness is countered by the delight on the face of our Savior. At last, His Beloved is by His side. She is home. She is with Him. How can sadness exist there? It can’t, and we can pray for the same on earth. No sadness here either—for if our Lord is happy, we must be also.
It is often said of departing saints that upon arriving in Heaven they will hear these comforting words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”1 But if you would indulge me a little writer’s privilege, I am almost certain that Tracey heard different words as she entered there on January 12, 2015. Picture her crossing over the portals of Heaven and dancing past those pearly gates as these words resounded throughout that glorious place: “Well done, good and delightful daughter!”
And a delightful daughter she was to Gary and Shelia, and also to our Heavenly Father. So, our beloved Tracey, although we miss you dearly, we simply must chime in with the greatest invitation ever to fall on human ears: “Enter into the joy of your Lord.” ~Janie Kellogg