I hope you never lose your sense of wonder

You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger

May you never take one single breath for granted

God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance

Never settle for the path of least resistance

Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin'

Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin'

Don't let some Hellbent heart leave you bitter

When you come close to sellin' out, reconsider

Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

 

These are the lyrics to one of my dad’s favorite songs, “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack. During the past two months, this song has become a message to me, an anchor on the darkest days, and a constant reminder to keep my faith when it feels the most fragile. These lyrics are an absolute reflection of the man that my father was and if his perspective on life could be contained in a single song, it would be this one. Paul Sanchez graced each person that he met with passion, kindness, and an unparalleled sense of encouragement that has seemed to truly resonate with people. He valued life’s limitless opportunities for learning and held a strong appreciation for the art of gratitude, but one of his most distinguishing qualities was his strikingly passionate nature and his ability to experience life in its entirety, all the while with vigor, love, and courage.

 

Since his passing on March 9, I have come to realize that the community ingrained in DSHA is not only something remarkable, but also something rare. It is not every day that one encounters a group of teachers, students, coaches, counselors, and staff as supportive and empathetic as the one that I have found in my school. It is not difficult to seek support from others in the midst of a sudden tragedy; it is difficult to find a community that will not falter as time goes on. But the beautiful thing about DSHA is that I know that the overwhelming love and support will continue to envelop my family and me long after I graduate. The people here are by no means bound by my four years of high school. I have found lifelong friends in some of my teachers and true role models in many of my friends. DSHA is so much more than a high school. It is a sanctuary, a place deeply rooted in faith and built with walls of love and hope.

 

Winning the Journal Sentinel Courage Award was a direct reflection of the community that surrounds me. Courage is not a quality that can be developed independently, because no one can exhibit strength in the face of grief alone. I look to my mom, younger brothers, friends, coaches, teachers, aunts and uncles and the DSHA student body for fortitude because only so much strength can be drawn from within. The rest comes from the friendships and relationships with people I trust that DSHA has given me.

 

The soccer community in particular has truly carried me these past few months. Because my dad was my greatest coach and inspiration, I cannot think of a more perfect place to end my time here at DSHA. Before every game, we all write his initials, “PS” on our hands in black sharpie as a physical reminder of who we are playing for. It has become a theme over these past few years on Varsity Soccer to play for the people who have come and gone before us, both in and outside of the DSHA soccer community. When celebrating Sarah Hegarty’s impact on the DSHA soccer program, one of my coaches once wrote, “Remind yourself how lucky you are to be on a soccer field competing. Remind yourself that recovering after a turnover, a missed shot, getting up off the ground, surviving a tough tackle, and overcoming mistakes is an honor and a gift. Remind yourself, being relentless is an everyday, every hour, and every minute endeavor. The reward of relentless is the reward of truly being alive.” This mindset has particularly resonated with me this season. Sarah Hegarty, Megan Flannery, my dad, and countless others are the reason that we play. They are the reasons for every moment on the field, every second in practice, and every minute that we spend working to become better players and people.

 

Although graduation signals the beginning of countless endings, I am beyond grateful to have spent four years at DSHA. I am incredibly blessed to have formed relationships that will continue to support me and help me grow in the upcoming years, and I am indebted to each and every person that has contributed to my high school experience, particularly these past few months. DSHA has been nothing short of a light in my life. I will forever be thankful for the overflowing amount of love and support that has surrounded my family these past two months, and I am certain that I share this gratitude with numerous other students. To all of my 166 sisters in the class of 2018 and in the words of Lee Ann Womack, “I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance, never settle for the past of least resistance.” 

I wish nothing to you all but the same courage and strength I have been given this year by the DSHA community, and I truly hope that when life gives you the opportunity… I hope you dance.

________________________

To learn more about Natalie's story, and about her father Paul, click here to read an article from the Miwlaukee Journal Sentinel, posted on Wednesday, May 23.