I Hope You Dance

@LindseyHouchin: "Gonna need some help, y'all."

One year after I posted the above tweet, I can think of no better words to say than thank you. To those of you near and far who have made the past year the best it could have been, thank you for answering my cry. While losing one of the most important people in my life was one of the most difficult things to do, there have been plenty of silver linings. In the year following my Momma's death, I've been reminded of the love I'm surrounded by, even when one of my life's most reliable sources of love has expired.

As I've said time and time again, my Momma loved Lee Ann Womack's "I Hope You Dance" and quoted it more times than I could even estimate. A few weeks ago, it crept into my headphones while I was working out. All it would have taken to wave away the sentimental song was a quick shake-to-shuffle, but I let it linger. Before long, I was the goofy-looking girl grinning ear to ear on the elliptical machine. Take a look at these lyrics:

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat, but always keep that hunger

My "sense of wonder" was enough to cause Momma's heart attack. She couldn't ever quite understand why I was endlessly curious about what else there was, where else I could go, and who else I might meet. I couldn't tell you how many times she asked if I really wanted to go to South Africa, but I also couldn't tell you how many times I'd be greeted with a text message after turning my phone back on after a flight that read, "Who'd you meet this time? Any good stories?" I've made it through another adventure with stories to tell, but I'm already looking forward to new ones. And Momma, these extra kilograms (pounds) I'll come back with prove that I've gotten more than my fill to eat!

May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

If there's anything the sudden death of a loved one teaches you, it's to be present in every moment. Take advantage of every moment, and seek out moments that leave you astounded. Then tell someone about them. Get lost in the wonder of the world, and get caught up in overwhelming feelings for the people you're surrounded by. I've always been lucky to have incredible people - strangers, acquaintances, friends, family - in my life, and they've shown me that when one person is taken from your circle, many others reflect the love that was lost. Empty handed is the last phrase I'd use to describe myself.

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens 

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance

There are few places in the world that are blessed with mountains and the ocean and urban city life, and Cape Town knows how lucky it is. On many occasions during my time here at the bottom of Africa, I've overflowed with joy when standing between the ocean and the mountains. Breathtaking views are an everyday occurrence in this majestic city, and they always leave me humming these lyrics. I've never felt more humbled than when standing on the top of Table Mountain and gazing into an endless horizon of ocean. And from the foot of the mountain, what I call "home" here in the City Bowl, reverence best describes my feeling for the mountains. They keep me from settling in too much, from forgetting what else might be out there, and from forgetting to look up and away every now and then.

My Momma did everything (and I mean everything) she could to talk me out of coming to South Africa, not because she didn't support me, but because she wasn't sure she could handle being so far away from her "baby" - the one who'd depended on her so much for so long. In 2012, without my Momma, I wasn't sure this was the right decision. It wasn't the path of least resistance that led me here, but the reward is reassuring. From the end of my adventure, though, I can confidently say that this is just what I needed. And I think she'd agree today.

This quote landed in my inbox on the day my Momma died.
Thanks for the reminder then and now, daily email.

Without the help of friends and family in all corners of the world, and even strangers along the way, I wouldn't have been grinning ear to ear on the elliptical that day. I cried for help, and you answered. Abundantly. To those of you who came to my rescue one year ago, to those of you who helped me find my footing when my world shook, to those of you who crawled into bed with me when it was all I could do, to those of you who encouraged me when I was unsure, to those of you who listened when I talked in circles, to those of you who sent me encouraging messages, to those of you who hugged me tight before I adventured on, to those of you who planted yourselves in my life as my Momma's spirit, and to those of you who were patient with me every step of the way, thank you. You'll never know how much it has meant to me.

Now, let's have a good day, shall we?