Dolly Parton died a few days ago at the age of eighty, and I imagine heaven had a small problem receiving her.

"Name?" asked the angel at the gate.

"Dolly Parton."

"Occupation?"

"I sang a little."

"A little?" asked the angel, looking through a very large heavenly file. "You sold more than a hundred million records."

"Well," Dolly might have replied with that famous smile, "God gave me a voice. I merely returned it with a tune."

That, I believe, was the secret behind Dolly Parton.

She knew she was talented. Humility does not mean pretending that God gave you nothing. It means knowing exactly where everything came from.

Dolly never hid her success. She wore sparkling costumes, towering wigs, and enough glitter to power a small town. Yet beneath all that glamour was a woman who remembered the little wooden church in the mountains, her mother's prayers, and her family's faith.

She once described God as her co-writer and co-pilot.

What a magnificent way to look at life.

Most of us make God a passenger. We ask Him to sit quietly in the back seat while we drive, choose the road, ignore the warning signs and finally blame Him when we land in a ditch.

Dolly allowed Him into the cockpit.

Perhaps that was why fame never seemed to make her feel taller than other people, even if her hair certainly did.

She laughed at herself before anyone else could. She did not use humility as a performance. She simply understood that applause belongs to the moment, while the gift belongs to God.

Her faith also left her with little time to judge others. She believed that judging belonged to God and loving belonged to us. Sadly, many religious people have reversed those duties. We judge enthusiastically and leave the loving to God.

Dolly's faith was heard not only in gospel songs but also in her generosity. Through her Imagination Library, she placed millions of books into the hands of children. She did not merely sing about love. She packed it, posted it and sent it into homes.

And that is perhaps why the world mourns her today.

Not simply because a great voice has fallen silent, but because that voice constantly reminded us to laugh, to give, to believe and to look upward.
Yesterday, when Dolly reached heaven, I suspect the angel finally closed that enormous file.

"Welcome," he said. "You used your gifts well."

And Dolly probably smiled and replied, "They were never mine in the first place!"

True humility is not hiding your light.

It is shining brilliantly while remembering who lit the lamp...