Disciplined Generosity: Dolly’s Life in Her Own Words

A young Dolly Parton.

I read something online this morning. Apparently Garth Brooks’ daughter, Allie Colleen, doesn’t look forward to reading a million tributes about her dad when he dies by people who never knew him. She said, “My greatest fear in life is the day my Dad loses his life and I have to see the world mourn a man they never knew the way I knew him.” I’ll admit, some less than nice thoughts rolled thru my head. It is true, the tributes came pouring in when we lost Dolly Parton. Frankly, we are desperate for heroes these days. And we all knew someday we were going to lose Dolly, a musician who transcended her music: an icon of charity, goodness, inclusivity, and gratitude.

There’s a certain amount of folklore around Dolly Parton. Before she died there were half a dozen cherry tree stories (think George Washington). The difference is, in Dolly’s case, most of them were true. It’s a struggle to find the words to put around this woman. Words fall short. Unless, of course, you use her words.

On faith as behavior: “I live my spirituality… You just live it and be it.”

I think this is the value that has everyone across the board in love with Dolly. She was a preacher thru action, not words. She gave glory through her love and modeled more than she professed. I have long said that if you have to make an argument for your religion, perhaps you aren’t the best one to represent it. No one begrudged Dolly her thoughts or prayers because they came simultaneously with her consistent conduct and mindful behavior. Dolly was a Christian who cut to the core of the teachings. It wasn’t niceness. It wasn’t even kindness. It was goodness. Goodness seeped from Dolly’s existence and it touched everyone around her. She demonstrated that niceness has a place, but not in the face of evil. Kindness is a beautiful thing, but it is not enough.

On generosity: “I just give from my heart… I just see a need and if I can fill it, then I will.”

Her generosity was not abstract, and it wasn’t small. The Imagination Library, which she founded after watching her father struggle with illiteracy, has gifted more than 300 million books to children in five countries. After the 2016 Smoky Mountain wildfires, her My People Fund donated $1,000 a month for six months to families who had lost their homes. She gave $1 million to Vanderbilt’s COVID-19 research, which contributed to the Moderna vaccine, then another million to pediatric infectious-disease research. These weren’t monuments built in her own honor. They were living systems, designed to keep doing good after the headlines moved on. The Imagination Library is still mailing millions of books every month. We can donate, register an eligible child, support a local program or help start one where none exists. Dolly planted the garden. We can water it.

For many folks, it’s an effort to see others and their needs. Dolly had practiced seeing people and situations her entire life. It’s part of what made her a great songwriter. Like all of the greatest disciplines, at some point it actually becomes effortless, a lifestyle that you wouldn’t imagine straying from. It’s like when someone watching a great talent says to me, “Don’t you think there are people that are just born more talented than others?” My response is usually something like, wouldn’t that conveniently get you off the hook? Now, go practice.

She practiced goodness until it became disposition.

On judgment: “I don’t condemn or criticize. I just accept and love.”

Not everything is worth commenting on. Perhaps that’s where Allie Colleen is coming from. I’ll admit, when I read J.K. Rowling’s memorial to Dolly, it hit my heart like a stone. Aren’t you kind of everything Dolly avoided turning into? It’s not that J.K. doesn’t have a right to say whatever she wants, it’s more like why? You set yourself up to be criticized because you spent the last several years condemning and criticizing others. Have a seat.

Am I condemning and criticizing J.K.? Look, I never claimed to hold a candle to the goddess of goodness, Ms. Dolly Parton. Dolly was flawless in how she handled people publicly. She rarely showed irritation or anger (I, on the other hand, have a “cünt” tattoo). She channeled her venom and delivered it deliberately. Though she seemed to be the anti-venom more often in that type of metaphor. She was the type who counteracted the harm of the louder voices by serving her community.

I thought back to when Dolly worked with Kid Rock. She rejected the idea that loving someone should demand that we stop loving another. She explicitly said she doesn’t “criticize, condone, nor condemn” and believes people deserve another chance simply because human error is too common to define others by their worst moments.

It’s just that simple. And not at all simple, right?

That kind of discipline was a marker of Dolly’s work ethic and intelligence. Because the Dolly test isn’t, “Which awful people am I justified in telling to have a seat?” It’s closer to, “Can I oppose what someone does without allowing contempt for them to colonize me?”

Jesus, that’s harder.

On division: “We need to pay a little more attention to being human beings.”

Dolly was one value we all can agree on. President Trump even ordered U.S. flags flown at half-staff nationwide for a week in her honor. Dolly never forgot who she was and who she wanted to be when pulled down into the muck. She preached of tolerance and love. She offered generosity of spirit at every turn. And it made her, quite simply, the embodiment of what we all probably should be striving for day in and day out.

On inclusion through faith: “We’re all God’s children. We all have a place in this world. We all need to be loved and respected.”

Somehow Dolly managed not to miss the memo Jesus left behind in that big ol’ book. It was almost like she read the words and internalized them. Love and respect were quite simply the way you treat people. Even if it takes effort. Perhaps, especially if it takes effort. Dolly knew that the only way we can close the circle is by widening it eternally.

“I hope I’ll be remembered as somebody that tried to do some good in the world and left… a few good things.”

Modest through and through. We all comment on her because she touched us. She connected us. She gave us someone to look up to. In a world filled with fallen heroes, Dolly’s death only brought out more stories of beauty, kindness, and love. It’s become almost fashionable to dance on the graves of hypocrites. But not with Dolly. I didn’t meet a soul who didn’t feel the world get a little darker on August 25, 2026. And it was almost like grief wasn’t enough. We all wanted to lower our flags, sing a song, write a tribute, because to love Dolly was to be impacted by her, and she was most definitely a woman of action.

So, I have decided, rather than feel bitterness toward Garth’s daughter for a seemingly obtuse comment, I will ask myself: What would Dolly do?

She would understand and perspective-take. Then, she would find a way to counteract that energy in some other, bigger action than just words. She would muster all five feet of herself, her tiny waist and hands, and get to work.

Live the message.

I’m writing this article on a Sunday, the Lord’s Day. So I’m not gonna just go to church. I’m going to rush home to make some meals and share them with my unsheltered neighbors. I’m going to refill our community little library. I’m going to call my mama on the way home. And I am going to smile at every face I meet.

So, maybe Allie gets us where we need to be with her fear. We don’t need a million more words about Dolly. We need a million people willing to practice what we loved about her.

Compose.