This is one weekend you definitely want to read about.

So. You've read my brother's and Josh's blog posts about Middle School Winter Camp this weekend; now it's time for my perspective.

Let me say first of all that I am a hermit at heart and I was incredibly drained after Elementary camp last weekend, so you might be able to imagine how dead I still am from this weekend. But that's getting ahead of myself.

The weekend started off nicely: a fun 3-hour drive up to camp with some awesome tunes and some awesome friends. If you know me at all, you know that if there's music, I'm happy. You also know that if my friends are there, I'm even happier. And to top it all off, my brother was there. Yikes.

Everything went well, activity-wise, on Friday night. We had fun at the pool and I got some amazingly hilarious footage on my camera of Holding Out playing water-basketball [poolsketball]. I'd never really met them before, except the Dave of course, but [not to worry] I was prepared for what I witnessed thanks to my brother. So that was all fun. We got back to camp around midnight and my girls were all in bed with the lights out by 1AM.

That's when the fun started. I couldn't fall asleep. I literally did not get one blink of sleep the en-freakin-tire night. So at 4:52AM, I'm laying there in bed and I started thinking. Why don't I stop whining in my head and do something productive? So I started praying. I prayed for everybody I could think of, even people I had just met that night. I had an amazing time, just me and God in the cabin conversing. All of a sudden, my heart sunk as I realized what God was doing. God was saying to me, Is this what it takes for me and you to have a serious conversation? Do I have to deprive you of sleep for an entire night for you to listen to me and only me? And why the heck did it take you 3 hours and 52 minutes to start talking to me? Of course, I pray regularly and I read my Bible and I walk the walk as best I can, but I realized at that moment that I haven't been completely undistracted and focused on God alone in a long time.

I kept praying, for a long time. It was me and God, chillin' out in the cabin at Arrah Wanna, just havin' a chat. He started telling me things He's been trying to tell me for a long time, but I haven't been listening as closely as I should have. I prayed about everything and for everyone until I came to a screeching halt when one person's face appeared in my mind's eye.

A little over one year ago, I filed charges of attempted date rape against a guy, for an incident that happened in the Fall of 2003. At this point, if you don't already know who he is and what happened, I don't want to tell you over the internet. Ask me in person and I would love to sit down and tell you all about it and to share my heart with you, if you'll share yours with me. Anywho, the image of this person appeared and I stopped. I couldn't keep praying, because I couldn't pray for him. Scenes started flashing through my mind, and I re-visited the day of the trial last February and the pain leading up to it and the pain following it. I started crying, and that's when God started talking to me again. Among other things, I realized that it was the first time I'd cried about that whole ordeal. While it was happening last year, I was so numb to the situation and so determined to get to the end of it and bring him to justice, that I never felt any emotion. I did cry once after the whole process was finished, but only because I knew I should cry, and I cheated in that I started out by making myself think of Keves and Rivka, my dogs that I had to leave in Africa, and then I switched my train of thought once the floodgates were open.

So back to me and God in the cabin, we battled for a long time and he started the process of breaking me down, piece by stubborn piece. I say "started" because I haven't been able to pray for "the guy" yet, or maybe I just don't want to, but God is still working on me. And for any of you who are reading this, now you have something you can pray for me about. So, long story short, it was a powerful night, all while everybody else was sleeping.

Before I knew it, daylight started creeping in the windows and the notorious Snow Disaster Day of Saturday began. If you know me at all, you know that I do not do well if I don't get at least 9 hours of sleep each night. Oy.

My brother and Josh already went into detail about the snow trip disaster, so I'll spare you another recounting of the same situation. I was on the first bus up with the girls that left at 11:30AM, and I was freezing and tired all day while I sat in the lodge in misery. I did my best to be chipper so as not to ruin everybody elses' day but inside, I was low low low. Oh, and did I mention? Due to the fantabulous timing of Middle School Camp, I had horrible cramps all day Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and now Monday. So I wasn't feelin' too hot.

Finally, late in the afternoon, Tim the Awesome Busdriver came back up the mountain with the boys. As soon as I saw the expression on Tim's face, that's when God started talking to me again. Or, should I say, that's when I started listening again. Tim, the man who drove the bus back and forth and back and forth all day long through horrible conditions, had the most joyful expression on his face. I seriously almost cried [again] when I realized how selfish I was being. So right there, I decided to be happy. And I was, genuinely.

Saturday night, we all sang some silly songs and then the guys from Holding Out came up with the idea to play the awesomest song game EVER, which I had never played before. To finish out the night they put on a rockin' concert for us, which was awesome of course.

That night, I slept like a corpse. [I was gonna say, "I slept like a baby," but when you think about it, babies don't sleep through the night. They scream and cry and deprive their parents of sleep. A corpse, on the other hand, does not wake up.] Sunday morning, we had an amazing worship time and then we packed up for the drive home. We stopped in Salem for a few hours for JESSICA'S BIRTHDAY PAR-TAY!!!!! and then continued on our merry drive down I-5.

Until we ran out of gas.

Around 7pm, two exits before Albany, the van started sputtering and eventually, we coasted to a halt. While my brother hitchhiked his way to a nearby gas station with come awesome Asians who pulled over for us, Josh, Anna, and I waited in the van. We took some photos made some videos to document the situation, all of which can be seen at DevilishDuck.com.

The plot thickened when Anna and I decided that we really needed to poop. Of course, having grown up in Africa, I'll do most anything. So I took the trash can that Mrs. Fish [from whom we borrowed the van] keeps in the vehicle at all times, and Anna and I stepped outside the van to take care of business. She took pictures, while I pooped in the trash can. It was quite a poop, too, nothing small, and I felt very relieved to have it out of me.

Until a State Trooper pulled up behind the van, lights flashing.

Holy shhhheeeeeetttttttt!!!!! I pulled up my pants as quickly as I could while Anna blocked me from the glare of the Trooper's prying headlights. While I put the trash can [filled with my crap] in the van and tied it off, Josh got out of the van and started talking to the Trooper. At the same time, Anna was laughing so hard that she actually made herself puke. "Is she okay?" asked the State Trooper, "Because she looks like she's puking." Uhhhhh... "No, um, I think she's alright..." and I explained our situation. Soon enough, we were all laughing again and the State Trooper bade us farewell and went on his way.

While Josh and Anna got back in the van, I found a roll of Charmin and was finally able to complete my previous task by wiping. I spare you no details, because I have no shame. Just before my brother finally got back with some gas, I dumped the trash bag in a nearby field. The only other thing in the bag [besides my poop] was the leftover devotional papers from that weekend. Ironic, I think.

So anyway, all things combined, it was an unforgettable weekend. If I forgot anything, I'll probably update this post tomorrow or Wednesday with links for pictures, people, and related blogs. There are actually pictures of me on the trash can crapping, but those pictures aren't available yet [HINT-ANNA-HINT]. So check back later. I'm going to bed.

50 Things You [Don't] Care About

[1] I used to hate nicknames as a kid, but then I realized that people only take the time to give you a nickname if they care about you.

[2] In high school, my nickname was Melt. Now, people call me Tuck, Tuckster, Tuggles, Tucktown, Melly, Lisserfiss, and/or good 'ole Mel. You can call me whatever you want.

[3] I'm just another kid from Israel, Africa, Switzerland, California, and/or Oregon who doesn't know where she belongs or how she's getting there or how she'll know "there" when she sees it.

[4] I'm afraid of commitment, but not in the typical way. Most of my life, the friends I've loved the most have been taken away from me whenever my family moved to a different country. I'm afraid that will happen again, even though I know it won't if I don't let it.

[5] I love animals, because I don't have to hold up a conversation with them.

[6] I love yellow roses because they stand for friendship, and without friendships I'm all alone in the world.

[7] I don't mind getting lost, because I like the feeling of uncertainty and I like the challenge of finding myself again.

[8] I trust easily, perhaps too easily, but underneath I guard myself, perhaps too much.

[9] My thoughts are always clearest when my vision is blurred with tears.

[10] I have friends everywhere, and I miss them so much, and I think about them all the time, but I never pick up the phone to call them because I'm afraid I won't know what to say.

[11] I don't like to be the center of attention. I'd rather have the person in the spotlight looking at me for their moral support because they know I'll always be by their side.

[12] I don't truly express myself a lot, because I'm always waiting for the perfect moment. Someday I'll realize that the perfect moment doesn't occur very often.

[13] I'd do anything for someone who needs my help, but I hate it when people go out of their way for me.

[14] I stand very firmly in my beliefs. I'm a Christian, and God is my beginning, my end, and everything in my inbetween.

[15] Sometimes I pull away from people I love, but only because I'm afraid they'll push me away.

[16] I love music, I love singing, and I don't care what people think.

[17] I love the rain, because it says everything I can never say in a way that I'll never be able to imitate.


These next ones, I stole from my brother's profile but since he stole the idea from me, I don't feel guilty. Besides, what's he gonna do about it? I'm his little sister; I can do nothing wrong.

[18] I am an exile and a refugee, and my home is with those who have taken my heart with them.

[19] I am a vagabond, a traveler; but one day, for the right person, I just might stay.

[20] I am a mystery to all, and few have ever known me.

[21] I have been a friend to many, but I have had very few friends.

[22] I tend to take on the expressions and mannerisms of those I spend a lot of time with, but my thoughts are all my own.

[23] I am an idealist, and while I realize that the world will never live up to my standards, that reality doesn't keep me from trying to live my own life according to those ideals.

[24] I am a quiet person, until I deem something worth saying.

[25] I am old fashioned in most ways.

[26] I'd much rather chase the entire night away with quiet conversation.

[27] I'm fairly shy, but only until I know you.

[28] But more than anything, I am a broken [woman] transformed by the amazing grace of God, through Jesus Christ, and made whole again.

[29] I am nothing but for Christ, who lives in me.


Now, back to ones written by me...

[30] My dog, Keves Ariel, died recently and I cried for an entire day (nonstop) when I found out.

[31] I've never had good experiences with people named Greg. It's weird.

[32] Tillamook Mudslide is the best ice creme ever made. But it can only be eaten straight out of the containter.

[33] I have a cowlick on the back of my head, and it's the exact same cowlick that my great-grandma, grandma, and aunt all have.

[34] I can't stand electric toothbrushes. They disrupt my usual tooth-brushing thinking time.

[35] I don't want to be rich, ever.

[36] It could take me years to remember the color of your eyes, but I'll never forget a smile.

[37] When I grow up I want to have lots of dogs, maybe even a kennel.

[38] My first love was Christian Bale in Newsies.

[39] I hated cranberry juice as a kid, now I can't imagine life without it.

[40] Cranberry sauce is my favorite part of Thanksgiving and Christmas.

[41] I never ever leave sporting events early, no matter how far behind my team is.

[42] Guys in Texas like girls with curves, and they don't hide it. After having lived in Texas for 3 weeks, I can now expertly divulge this information.

[43] I love collared shirts.

[44] I love pinstriped suits.

[45] I hate pretentious rich people.

[46] I refuse to use those paper toilet seat cover things. They make me feel like a spoiled American, which is what I strive toward not being.

[47] Dirt and germs are our friends. They build your immune system.

[48] Stereotypes exist because people fit them.

[49] I don't like makeup.

[50] I love going through automatic car washes. Inside a car, of course.

Baggage.

First of all, I got the afore mentioned tattoo but I'll address that at a later date. It won't look up to par for a couple more weeks, because it just finished peeling and it's now very faded. I'll post pictures when it's fully healed.

But that's off topic.

Today has been one of deep thoughts, which has become somewhat the norm. I used to be able to just do nothing and not have my mind swirling, but that's not so anymore. Sometimes, I find myself longing for earlier days and sometimes, I wish I could just skip ahead to the future where everything will be purrfect but then I snap back to reality [oh, there goes gravity].

I have many opinions, some of which people agree with, some of which people don't, some of which people aren't sure about. The topic of today's post is one that people aren't generally sure about.

One of my favorite sayings that applies in most any situation is, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Honest to God, and I've been through and witnessed a lot of stuff during my mere 20 years on this earth, that one is always true. You can give me any situation imaginable, and I'll show you how you can work it to your advantage.

My next theory about life is one that I came up with all on my own, although I doubt that it's an original piece of thought. "Baggage is what makes us interesting."

I've said that before in passing to a few of my friends and I've always gotten the same general response. An initial "Are you crazy? Who ever had that idea?" followed by a "Hmm." And then some silence while they ponder. But it's true. Think about it [think, think about it].

You always hear people say, "Oh, but so-and-so has so much baggage..." with a little bit of dismay in their voice, as if to say that if so-and-so didn't have so much baggage, they would be more desirable as a person. I've had friends who had no baggage and I've had friends who had so much baggage that they could hardly stand on their own. Sure, it can be draining to be their crutch all the time but that's only the case if the baggage-laden person in question is so busy wallowing in self-pity that they can't see the bright side of things. All you have to do is abide by my first saying, and you'll realize that any baggage you have will make you a stronger person if only you let it.

Essentially, the idea is this. Shit happens in life to everybody. One person may get pooped on more than the person next to them but it doesn't mean you were standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. You should feel blessed to have been pooped on and you should take your poop and do two things with it: 1) learn from your poopty experience, and 2) share your wisdom about said poop with every person to whom your advice may be helpful.

So in the end, I decided that I don't want to skip ahead because it's our experiences in life that make us who we are. I don't want to miss a thing, even if there isn't anything super-fabulous happening, because without today I will never get to tomorrow. And even if I could, it would be void and meaningless because I wouldn't be able to put it in the context of my life.

I'm getting tatted.

GASP!! WHAATT???!!

My brother and I are getting tattoos, probably this week. We've been planning it for a long time and now we're finally gonna do it.

So. I've spent the last couple of years debating whether I really want to have something permanently inked on my body. That's the first thing everybody says when you say you're getting a tattoo. "Are you sure? A tattoo is permanent." Yes, I know that, dipstick. Thank you for pointing it out.

Because of the everlasting nature of a tattoo, it's definitely not something to jump into. So, there are three general questions I've been pondering for the last couple of years.

[1] Do you really want to be an old lady and have tattoos? People always say that like it's a bad thing. My final conclusion is this: If I saw a wrinkly old lady walking down the street with a couple of subtle tattoos, I'd be like, "Sweet! That's one rockin' granny." And I'd probably want to hear her life story because it would probably be pretty interesting.

[2] But still... Are you sure you want to have something permanently inked on your body? If my body was permanent, then maybe or maybe not – I don't know. But I believe in something higher than this life on Earth and as such, my earthly body is only temporary. Within the next 80 years (hopefully), I'll leave this world and my mortal life on earth will have been but a blink in my history. While I'm here, I have but one purpose and that is to glorify my maker. So that brings me to my next question.

[3] Of all the possible markings I could put on my body, what will I choose?

Most people, when they get tattoos, choose something that defines them. Of everything that defines me, Melissa Faith Tucker, the one thing that stands far above the rest is my faith. Above everything else, I am a Christian. God is my beginning, my end, and He is everything in my inbetween. I believe in letting my actions speak louder than my words, and whether or not I preach the living daylights out of somebody, whether or not I even mention my faith to them using words, I want them to know that I'm a Christian.

In the early church, under the reign of the Roman Empire, Christians were often persecuted because of their faith. You can look it up for yourself if you want to know the grimy details, but the short story is it wasn't until around 300 A.D., under the reign of Constantine, that Christians were no longer persecuted for their faith. However, during the years of tremendous persecution before Constantine, Christians were afraid to speak of their faith, and understandably so.

During this time, in order to prevent unnecessary capture and persecution, Christians had secret codes they would use as a means of identifying or acknowledging a fellow believer in Christ without any verbal communication being exchanged. They would often draw a curved line in the dirt, mud, sand, or on the walls of caves and if the other person was a Christian, that person would draw the second curved line, creating the shape of a fish. By doing this, they were secretly exchanging a message that they were fellow believers of Christ and that it was safe to talk about their faith without the fear of being turned in. And if the person wasn't a Christian, it would simply look like a doodle in the sand.

We live in a country that grants us the freedom to believe (or not believe) anything we want, without fear of persecution. However, we don't always take advantage of our freedom to share the Word of God in our everyday lives. So, my tattoo is pretty much my modern day equivalent of doodling a fish in the sand upon meeting someone.

The tattoo I'm going to get is a small ichthus on the inner wrist of my right hand, just below my thumb. This is because in our culture, it's customary to shake the right hand of a person when you meet them. I want every person whose hand I shake for the rest of my life to know that I'm a Christian. I want them to know right off the bat, without any verbal communication being exchanged. I want every person I meet for the rest of my life on this earth, Christian or non-Christian, to know about my faith without the pressure of having to respond to it. My whole purpose on this earth is to glorify God and to be a fisher of men, and I don't care who knows it.

So, that's the general idea behind my tattoo. I'm sure I'll elaborate more in coming days, weeks, months, years, decades... Until then, PEACE OUT!!

One Prairie Outpost

One Prairie Outpost by Carbon Leaf

Not been here since I was a boy,
The sky unwrapped, the world my toy;
A movie reel a million miles long
On and on…

Scene after scene passes by my life,
The window’s a wound; the road is a knife.
The irony, ask me, "Where have you been?"
I don’t know, I don’t know,
Because I don’t know where to begin.

Too much to do, too much to see;
Pictures to take, people to meet.
When there’s so much space in between,
It overwhelms me.

Scene after scene passes by my life,
The window’s a wound and the road is a knife.
The irony, ask me, "Where have you been?"
I don’t know, I don’t know,
Because I don’t know where to begin.

Not been here since I was a boy,
Now a heart full of fear and a mask of painted joy.
So much for these youthful eyes to see;
So much for peace and tranquility.

One Prairie Outpost, you are how I feel:
Alone in a flatland 'tween the dream and the real.
The irony, ask me, "Where have you been?"
I don’t know, I don’t know,
Because I don’t know where to begin.

I don't know where to begin.

MySpace

I've succumed.

I've been on MySpace for a while, but only to look at other peoples' pictures. You know you've done it too, so chutup. Well, I've decided to actually use my MySpace. MySpace is still sketchy, but everybody else does it so I said to myself, "Why don't I?" And so I am.

However, if I don't know you, I won't accept you as a friend. That's right, you'll be denied. And I won't feel bad about it. Why? Because I don't know you and I don't care if you feel rejected. But if I do know you, you can be my friend.

What are you waiting for?? Go to MySpace already!