Well, if Dolly can do it, why can’t I?

If you know anything about me, you know I’ve had a lifelong love of Dolly Parton.

Honestly, I can’t even tell you exactly how or when it started. I just know that somewhere around age 15, Dolly inspired me to pick up a guitar, teach myself to play, and eventually write my first song.

And ever since, she’s just been there.

A constant in my mind and heart. As familiar to me as someone in my own family.

It’s taken me more than a week to pull myself together enough to actually write something about her passing, and I think I finally understand why.

Dolly has always been part of my musical trinity, if you will.

She was one of those people who somehow felt like she was mine. And apparently, somewhere along the way, I made everyone around me feel that way too.

The day she died, I got no less than 15 text messages and four phone calls.

I knew I talked about Dolly. I knew I told people how much I loved her and what an incredible talent I thought she was.

Apparently I underestimated just how often I talked about her.

But as a girl growing up in the Deep South, in a family full of musicians, there was always some little piece of Dolly’s story that felt familiar to me.

Two Southern girls, born many years apart, who loved words, music and telling stories through songs.

Now listen, I am NOT comparing myself to Dolly Parton. 😂

But there has always been a little songbird storyteller inside of me who believed that songs and stories were meant to be shared.

And Dolly helped give that girl wings.

In one of her songs she says, “Dreams are of no value if they’re not equipped with wings,” and more than once Dolly helped me find mine.

She also gave me permission, to be feminine and sparkle but still be taken seriously.

Seasons when I felt like maybe I needed to tone myself down. Be less girly. Less sentimental. Just LESS

And then somewhere in the back of my mind I’d think:

Well, if Dolly can do it, why can’t I?

Because Dolly would go into a room covered in rhinestones, big blonde hair and still somehow make sure you knew her waters ran deep.

She was brilliant and full of wisdom. She was a songwriter, a storyteller and one heck of a businesswoman-

She turned down Elvis to keep her publishing-

And one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen since her passing is realizing that the gift I felt like Dolly gave me was never mine alone.

All over the world, she gave people wings.

Maybe she didn’t inspire everyone to learn guitar and start writing songs at 15 like she did me.

But she made people believe in themselves.

The day she died, I prayed with my momma that the gifts God placed inside of Dolly (the wisdom, the writing, the creativity, the business sense) wouldn’t disappear from this earth with her. That pieces of those gifts would continue through the people like me and others she inspired.

And I believe they will.

Because words and music have a way of living forever.

Dolly wrote thousands of songs. Those words will keep being sung in cars and kitchens, churches and honky-tonks.

Mothers will introduce them to daughters. <3

Someone will hear one at exactly the right moment and decide to pick up a guitar.

Just like I did.

That’s one of the greatest things an artist can ever do.

Leave something behind that makes people feel brave enough to create.

As for me, I still can’t really talk about Dolly leaving this world without crying.

Part of the reason this post took so long is because the screen kept getting blurry. ;)

But I think Dolly herself probably gave us the best instructions for what comes next:

Find your wings.

Use the gifts God gave you.

Tell your stories

Help somebody along the way.

And for goodness sake, sparkle!

Thank you for helping me find my wings, Dolly.

I’ll carry a little bit of your sparkle with everwhere I go!