Dolly, Miley, and Reba: Country Queens Unite for Hope and Healing

Mia Reynolds, 1/17/2026Dolly Parton, celebrating her 80th birthday, releases a powerful rendition of "Light of a Clear Blue Morning" featuring Reba McEntire, Miley Cyrus, Lainey Wilson, and Queen Latifah. Proceeds benefit Vanderbilt's children's hospital, combining artistry with a heartfelt message of hope and resilience during challenging times.

On the surface, it might seem like just another birthday release. But the new version of “Light of a Clear Blue Morning,” shared with the world on January 19th, is more than a celebratory gesture. It’s an offering—part revival, part act of service, and entirely Dolly. For this updated anthem, Dolly surrounds herself with a powerhouse of voices: Reba McEntire whose vocals carry the kind of maternal warmth found only in Southern kitchens, Lainey Wilson—a torchbearer for country who seems equally at home playing tribute and trailblazer—and Queen Latifah, whose genre-crossing talent continues to defy any tidy label Nashville—or anyone else—tries to pin on her. And of course, there’s Miley Cyrus, as much woven into Dolly’s personal story as she is into this musical one.

All proceeds from this song and its touching music video—every streaming penny, every download—are earmarked to fuel research at Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt. The gesture has a certain poetic symmetry, considering Nashville has been both muse and home to Dolly for the better part of her life. But there’s no sense, listening to the arrangement, that this is charity wrapped in celebrity sheen. If anything, it plays more like a prayer sent up by women who’ve known both hard-fought victories and the kind of pain that refuses to listen to a clock. ’Tis charity with backbone—as enduring as the chords of an old hymn.

Dolly’s connection to “Light of a Clear Blue Morning” runs generations deep. Penned in the late ’70s amid a season of upheaval—her split from longtime mentor Porter Wagoner, for those paging through the history books—the song first climbed the charts as a gentle benediction for anyone searching for a life beyond storms. Now, nearly 50 years on, it’s been reborn, dressed up in harmonies that span genres and generations.

The blend is striking, especially in today’s musical landscape where collaborations often feel like corporate matchmaking. Here, nothing is forced. Reba’s lines tumble easily into Wilson’s honeyed twang, before making ample room for Queen Latifah’s R&B punctuation. Then there’s Miley—godchild, co-conspirator, kindred spirit. Their history is well-documented, from “Rainbowland” to red carpets, and anyone who remembers Dolly’s frequent guest turns on Hannah Montana won’t soon forget the winks to their off-screen bond. There’s a lived-in ease to their trading verses—a genuine intimacy that no studio wizardry can buy.

Some might believe optimism comes easy to a star of Dolly’s stature. Yet her choice of this particular song, one birthed out of vulnerability, says otherwise. “Light of a Clear Blue Morning” sounds even more urgent against the backdrop of 2025’s relentless news churn—a climate where, on any given day, hope feels like choosing to breathe. Revisiting the track’s lyrics now—lines like “it’s gonna be all right”—hits differently. It’s comforting, of course, but there’s grit beneath the reassurance, an almost stubborn insistence that tomorrow warrants faith.

The music video bolsters that message. Far from the bombast often seen in benefit visuals, this one breathes. Scenes move between sunlit fields and quietly lit Nashville studios, allowing each performer room to be both part of a legacy and unmistakably themselves. What might surprise is how natural the blending feels. There’s no showboating, no jostling for camera time—just an audible respect, an invitation to join in.

Partnerships don’t just happen by accident. The history between these artists has its own soft glow. Queen Latifah and Dolly, after all, go back at least a decade—Joyful Noise casting both in roles that mixed the sacred and the scrappy. Reba, meanwhile, recently lent her talents alongside Lainey Wilson and Miranda Lambert for the chart-topping “Trailblazer,” still fresh in everyone’s mind with Grammy nominations in the air. These are bonds built not for the moment or the marketing—they’re born of perseverance, roots, and a shared understanding that legacy only matters if you pass it along.

There’s a personal edge, too, to the cause at hand. Dolly’s public comments about her own health—candid as ever, gently disarming with that customary wink (and who else could make the words “I’m not dying” sound so inviting?)—resonate all the more as she works with Vanderbilt, a hospital that holds its own place in her story. The priorities are clear: This isn’t a detour; it’s a homecoming.

Perhaps the enduring charm of this project lies in its refusal to condescend. The voices, the arrangement, the charity—all offer something sincere, an antidote to a culture often obsessed with flash and fleeting attention. It’s a call to remember that music still has the power to change things for the better, right here and now, amidst inflation, uncertain headlines, and all the rest.

So, does hope ever go out of style? Not likely, especially when Dolly leads the chorus. It’s not just candles she’s lighting for her birthday—it’s something far bigger, flickering in the hearts of those who still need reminding that it really can be all right, even when it isn’t. And in giving away her spotlight this time, Dolly manages to make it shine just a little brighter for everyone.

Age has a knack for sneaking up quietly, but when Dolly Parton turns 80—well, subtlety isn’t exactly the order of the day. This past January, country music’s most beloved luminary found a way to transform a milestone many would mark with cake or a quaint family dinner into something bolder, brighter, and far-reaching. Instead of simply basking in the spotlight, Dolly did what she’s done for decades: she handed the microphone to hope.On the surface, it might seem like just another birthday release. But the new version of “Light of a Clear Blue Morning,” shared with the world on January 19th, is more than a celebratory gesture. It’s an offering—part revival, part act of service, and entirely Dolly. For this updated anthem, Dolly surrounds herself with a powerhouse of voices: Reba McEntire whose vocals carry the kind of maternal warmth found only in Southern kitchens, Lainey Wilson—a torchbearer for country who seems equally at home playing tribute and trailblazer—and Queen Latifah, whose genre-crossing talent continues to defy any tidy label Nashville—or anyone else—tries to pin on her. And of course, there’s Miley Cyrus, as much woven into Dolly’s personal story as she is into this musical one.All proceeds from this song and its touching music video—every streaming penny, every download—are earmarked to fuel research at Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt. The gesture has a certain poetic symmetry, considering Nashville has been both muse and home to Dolly for the better part of her life. But there’s no sense, listening to the arrangement, that this is charity wrapped in celebrity sheen. If anything, it plays more like a prayer sent up by women who’ve known both hard-fought victories and the kind of pain that refuses to listen to a clock. ’Tis charity with backbone—as enduring as the chords of an old hymn.Dolly’s connection to “Light of a Clear Blue Morning” runs generations deep. Penned in the late ’70s amid a season of upheaval—her split from longtime mentor Porter Wagoner, for those paging through the history books—the song first climbed the charts as a gentle benediction for anyone searching for a life beyond storms. Now, nearly 50 years on, it’s been reborn, dressed up in harmonies that span genres and generations.The blend is striking, especially in today’s musical landscape where collaborations often feel like corporate matchmaking. Here, nothing is forced. Reba’s lines tumble easily into Wilson’s honeyed twang, before making ample room for Queen Latifah’s R&B punctuation. Then there’s Miley—godchild, co-conspirator, kindred spirit. Their history is well-documented, from “Rainbowland” to red carpets, and anyone who remembers Dolly’s frequent guest turns on Hannah Montana won’t soon forget the winks to their off-screen bond. There’s a lived-in ease to their trading verses—a genuine intimacy that no studio wizardry can buy.Some might believe optimism comes easy to a star of Dolly’s stature. Yet her choice of this particular song, one birthed out of vulnerability, says otherwise. “Light of a Clear Blue Morning” sounds even more urgent against the backdrop of 2025’s relentless news churn—a climate where, on any given day, hope feels like choosing to breathe. Revisiting the track’s lyrics now—lines like “it’s gonna be all right”—hits differently. It’s comforting, of course, but there’s grit beneath the reassurance, an almost stubborn insistence that tomorrow warrants faith.The music video bolsters that message. Far from the bombast often seen in benefit visuals, this one breathes. Scenes move between sunlit fields and quietly lit Nashville studios, allowing each performer room to be both part of a legacy and unmistakably themselves. What might surprise is how natural the blending feels. There’s no showboating, no jostling for camera time—just an audible respect, an invitation to join in.Partnerships don’t just happen by accident. The history between these artists has its own soft glow. Queen Latifah and Dolly, after all, go back at least a decade—Joyful Noise casting both in roles that mixed the sacred and the scrappy. Reba, meanwhile, recently lent her talents alongside Lainey Wilson and Miranda Lambert for the chart-topping “Trailblazer,” still fresh in everyone’s mind with Grammy nominations in the air. These are bonds built not for the moment or the marketing—they’re born of perseverance, roots, and a shared understanding that legacy only matters if you pass it along.There’s a personal edge, too, to the cause at hand. Dolly’s public comments about her own health—candid as ever, gently disarming with that customary wink (and who else could make the words “I’m not dying” sound so inviting?)—resonate all the more as she works with Vanderbilt, a hospital that holds its own place in her story. The priorities are clear: This isn’t a detour; it’s a homecoming.Perhaps the enduring charm of this project lies in its refusal to condescend. The voices, the arrangement, the charity—all offer something sincere, an antidote to a culture often obsessed with flash and fleeting attention. It’s a call to remember that music still has the power to change things for the better, right here and now, amidst inflation, uncertain headlines, and all the rest.So, does hope ever go out of style? Not likely, especially when Dolly leads the chorus. It’s not just candles she’s lighting for her birthday—it’s something far bigger, flickering in the hearts of those who still need reminding that it really can be all right, even when it isn’t. And in giving away her spotlight this time, Dolly manages to make it shine just a little brighter for everyone.