I read a social media post today that made me sad.

Maybe “angry” was my first reaction, but disappointed is probably the better word. Disappointed because it came from someone who identifies as a Christian, someone I follow and respect, and because the words were directed at someone we lost yesterday…Dolly Parton.

I never comment on posts I disagree with. I’ve learned that protecting my peace is usually more valuable than winning an argument. But this time, I felt compelled to say something, not to argue, but because the words felt so contrary to the grace I believe we are called to.

As Christians, we are supposed to be salt and light. We are called to speak with grace, show mercy, encourage one another, and live in such a way that people see something different in us. We are not called to be perfect, without opinions or disagreements, but different.

We don’t have to agree with everyone to love them. We don’t have to share someone’s beliefs, politics, lifestyle, or opinions to treat them with dignity. And we certainly don’t have to tear someone else down to make our own point.

That is probably what bothered me most. Because if there was ever someone who seemed to understand how to love people across every imaginable divide, it was Dolly.

Like millions of others, my heart is broken over her passing. I never met Dolly Parton personally. But I don’t think you have to meet someone to be touched by their life.

I invited Dolly into my home through her music, her movies, her books, and her stories. I sat in a sold-out Utah auditorium and listened as she told stories about her life. That night wasn’t just a concert; it felt like a private party where we were all the guests of honor. In her own way, she made thousands of people feel like they were sitting in her living room with her. We were all VIPs that night.

That is why we will always love Dolly – because the words written about her in that social media post are words I cannot imagine Dolly ever returning in kind.

Playing politics at the expense of another person wasn’t her way. Lashing out wasn’t her brand. She repeatedly expressed love and respect for her fans, regardless of their political party, race, creed, or religion. Her fans were people, and she loved people. She loved God, too.

And while I cannot speak for the condition of anyone else’s heart, I can look at the fruit of a person’s life. Dolly’s faith wasn’t simply something she talked about. It was reflected in what she created and what she gave away – her songs, stories, charities, the Imagination Library, Dollywood, and countless other ways she used the gifts she had been given to bring joy, opportunity, education, and hope to other people.

She could have used her extraordinary success to build a bigger life for herself. Instead, she built things other people could enjoy. That matters to me, and maybe that’s why this loss feels so personal.

This post probably doesn’t fit neatly into my usual brand. I write about balance. I encourage women to put God first, care for their minds, bodies, and spirits, and make room for fun. I write about burnout, restoration, and the beautiful work God does when He helps us find our way back to ourselves. But I also write when I grieve.

And today, I am grieving.

I am grieving the loss of a beautiful human being who, whether she ever knew it or not, brought an extraordinary amount of joy into my life and into the lives of millions of others.

To me, Dolly was more than a singer, songwriter, actress, businesswoman, or entertainer.

She was a storyteller.

And perhaps that’s one of the reasons I felt such a connection to her. She loved words. She understood the power of a story. She knew how to take something ordinary, such as a childhood memory, a song, a character, a moment, and turn it into something that made you feel.

That is a gift, and what a gift she gave the world!

I am thankful we don’t have to say goodbye to everything Dolly gave us. We have the old records, movies, books, interviews, recordings, and her stories. We can revisit them whenever we need to remember what it looks like to use our gifts well, love people generously, laugh often, and leave the world a little better than we found it.

And maybe that’s the part of Dolly’s legacy I will carry with me. I choose to remember how she chose, again and again, to use what she had been given to bring something good into the lives of others.

In a world that can feel so divided, angry, and dark, I will miss that kind of light.

So yes, Dolly, we mourn you. We miss you. And we will always love you, not because we knew you personally, but because somehow, through your stories, your music, your laughter, your generosity, and the life you chose to live, you made millions of us feel like we did.

That is why we will always love you, Dolly.