Real Talk.

Yesterday marked 90 days until I leave for Cambodia.

Today is February 12th.  I leave May 12th.

I may be subject to tiny moments of freaking out.  Likely more prone to them the closer the day gets.


Flash to sitting outside of a Starbucks overflowing with hipsters and Apple products.

She looks at me, honest, wondering, “aren’t you scared?”

I bite my lip.  Think.  Aren’t I scared?  Aren’t I afraid of going?  Aren’t I afraid of being there all alone?

“Not really.  I know God will take care of me.  He’s brought me this far, He’ll take me where He wants me.”

Am I scared?


I sit curled on a couch, drink in hand.  I am tired after a night of a few hours of awful sleep.

“Is everything okay with you, Megan Tucker?”

No.  Ninety days.

“Ninety days.  That makes it so real.”

My fear, I’ve known it all along.  I have acknowledged it in the quiet.  I have whispered prayers in the darkness.  I have wiped away tears as I turn on my side to go to sleep, resolving to just trust God.

“Are you scared?”

I don’t think I miss a beat when I answer.  “Yes.”  So sure.  So hopelessly sure that I am afraid and this makes me a bad person.


A lot of people ask me if I’m afraid or scared of going to Cambodia.

The truth is, I’m not afraid of going.  I’m not scared of going.  It’s exciting, going and following where God has led me.  It really is.

So, I’m not afraid of going, no.

However, I am afraid of leaving.


Saturday night I had a dream that I died and no one remembered me.

Okay.  A few people remembered me.  But not many.

It took my invisible body walking around and making things happen to remind people who I was.

At the most bittersweet part of the dream, I sat invisible next to a dear friend and ran my fingers through her ponytail.  She noticed.  Then her mom rain her fingers through her ponytail and there was a brief moment where I was connected to both of them.

They noticed.  They remembered.  For a moment, and then it was back to reality and I was still dead and gone and they had still moved on with their lives and I was nothing but a sometimes-remembered memory.


I sat in church on Sunday morning and thought of that dream.  Thought of how that’s exactly how I feel about leaving.

I feel like, sort of, I’m dying.  Not really.  But my life here in Oviedo?  It’s dying.

I’m not afraid of going, I’m afraid of leaving.

I’m leaving my mom and dad.  I’m leaving my sisters.  I’m leaving my dog and my house and my neighbors who have watched me grow up for the past twenty years.

I’m leaving my church family.  I’m leaving the people who have been so beneficial and encouraging to my spiritual walk.  I’m leaving dear friends.  I’m leaving my car.  I’m leaving my school and my bedroom and Target and Starbucks and Chick-fil-a.


So when people ask if I’m afraid of going to Cambodia, the answer is no, I’m not.

I’m afraid of leaving everyone and everything I know.

I’m afraid of people forgetting about me.


I like your words.

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