Home Sweet Home

Well, it's official. I live in Florida. We bought a house in North Port.

Yep.

I am by no means calling myself a Floridian. I will forever be "from North Carolina." When I visit NC and people ask me, "oh, where are you from?" I'll say, "here. I'm from North Carolina. I just happen to stay in Florida." Or, "my parents live in Florida, and I'm staying with them." But I am not a Floridian.

I've accepted the fact that God asked me to move to Florida. I'm even okay with it. I'm not bitter. I'm not angry. I'm just not a Floridian.

My mother is all happy to be here. She likes the sweltering heat and the bipolar weather. She likes having sand in your teeth when you get back from the beach. She likes dry skin and gritty clothes. Personally, I prefer rolling hills and corn fields. That just me, though.

I've never been like my mother. That's why I get angry when people say I look just like her, or even when she calls me "mini-me". Because I am not like her. She likes the beach. I like the pond. She likes sand. I like snow. She likes riding bi-cycles, I like riding horses. She likes heat, I like cold. The list goes on and on. We clash like a ginger in a maroon shirt. So, yeah. I get a little peeved when people say I'm just like her.

Anyway, that's not what this post is about.

Our new church is awesome. It's small... very small. But it's a lot like C3 and that makes things easier. The people are so nice. I'm really excited about spending our time there. I don't want to be like I was at C3. I don't want to be stagnant, or lukewarm. I want to save Venice. Heck, I want to save Florida. Again, I'm excited.