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Introduction

“That’s Important to Me” isn’t just a song—it’s a heartfelt reminder of the simple joys and values that often get overshadowed in the rush of life. Sung by Joey Martin Feek, this ballad is a deeply personal expression of what truly matters. It feels like sitting on a porch with a dear friend as they pour their soul out, sharing the building blocks of their world—love, family, faith, and the beauty of the everyday.

What makes this song so special is its authenticity. The lyrics are a gentle tapestry of life’s precious moments, from “clean sheets on the line” to “a good cup of coffee.” Joey’s tender, angelic voice gives the song an unmatched sincerity, like she’s singing straight from her soul to yours. It’s about stripping life down to its essentials, focusing on what fills your heart rather than what clutters your mind.

Written by Joey Feek, her husband Rory, and Tim Johnson, the song is deeply rooted in their real-life values. It’s less about chasing grandeur and more about cherishing the quiet, meaningful connections that form the fabric of a life well-lived. For Joey + Rory fans, it’s a perfect encapsulation of their grounded, faith-filled approach to both music and life.

The song’s melody, gentle and soothing, mirrors its themes of comfort and simplicity. Listening to it feels like being wrapped in a warm hug, especially when life feels overwhelming. It’s a love letter to staying true to yourself and prioritizing what brings you joy and peace.

For anyone who has ever felt a tug at their heart to slow down and take stock of what truly matters, “That’s Important to Me” is more than a song—it’s a quiet anthem of gratitude

Video

Lyrics

Not planning our day around a TV set
Paying our bills and staying out of debt
That’s important to me
That’s important to me

Opening the windows and letting in air
Holding hands when we’re saying a prayer
That’s important to me
Yeah, that’s important to me

Having somebody to share my life
Loving my husband and being a wife
And the very best mother I can be
That’s important to me

Telling the truth and being real
Feeding my family a home cooked meal
That’s important to me
That’s important to me

Planting a garden and watching it grow
Keeping it country on the radio
That’s important to me
Yeah, that’s important to me

Always having you to hold
Being beside you when we grow old
And they plant us ‘neath that big old tree
That’s important to me

Always having you to hold
Being beside you when we grow old
And they plant us ‘neath that big old tree

Believing our dreams will take us somewhere
Still being ourselves if we ever get there
That’s important to me
That’s important to me

Yeah, that’s important to me
That’s important to me

That’s important to me

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HE WAS ON THE ROAD, TALKING TO HIS WIFE, WHEN HE SAID THE WORDS THAT WOULD TURN INTO A SONG ABOUT A MAN DYING UNDER A BRIDGE. The road had become part of the job. Airports, buses, hotel rooms, soundchecks, another city before the last one had settled in his mind. He tried to reassure her the way people on the road often do. “This is temporary,” he told her. “I’m almost home.” The phrase stayed with him. Later, Morgan and songwriter Kerry Kurt Phillips built a different story around it. Not a road song. Not a love song. A song about a homeless man lying under a bridge, cold and tired, dreaming of a woman named Jenny and a place he can finally reach. “Almost Home” did not sound like a normal radio calculation. The man in the song was not drinking in a bar, driving a truck, or trying to get a girl back. He was dying. The final turn was quiet: the police officer finds him in the morning, but the man has already gone where he believed home really was. Morgan recorded it for his 2003 album I Love It. The song became his breakthrough. It reached the country Top 10, won BMI Song of the Year recognition, and introduced a different side of Craig Morgan to listeners. They knew the soldier. They knew the working-class singer. Now they heard him telling a story about someone most people passed without seeing. Years later, Jelly Roll told Morgan that “Almost Home” had helped him through jail. That may be the strangest part of the song’s life. It began with a husband on the road trying to reassure his wife. It became a dying man’s last dream. Then it reached people in places Craig Morgan could not have imagined when he first said the words into a phone.

NINE YEARS AFTER COUNTRY RADIO LAST TOOK RANDY TRAVIS TO NO. 1, HE CAME BACK WITH A SONG ABOUT THREE CROSSES BESIDE A HIGHWAY. By the early 2000s, Randy Travis was no longer the new man changing Nashville. The years of “On the Other Hand,” “Forever and Ever, Amen,” and “Deeper Than the Holler” were behind him. Country radio had moved toward younger voices, bigger production, and songs built for a different kind of audience. Randy was still recording, still touring, still carrying the deep baritone that had helped bring traditional country back in the 1980s. But his last No. 1 had come in 1994. Then he began making gospel records. It was not a sharp break from the Randy Travis people already knew. Faith had always been close to the way he sang. The voice was still slow, low, and steady. But the songs came from a different room now — less about barstools and broken promises, more about judgment, mercy, and the things people carry after the road has gone dark. In 2002, he recorded “Three Wooden Crosses.” The song followed four strangers on a midnight bus bound for Mexico: a farmer, a teacher, a preacher, and a woman nobody in the story expected to matter most. Then an eighteen-wheeler came through the darkness. Three people died. Three crosses were left beside the highway. But the song did not end at the wreck. The preacher handed his bloodstained Bible to the woman who survived. Years later, her son stood in a church holding that same Bible, telling the story of the night that changed his mother’s life. Randy did not sing it like a sermon. He sang it like a country story people had to sit still and hear all the way through. The record kept climbing. In May 2003, “Three Wooden Crosses” reached No. 1 — Randy Travis’s first chart-topper in eight years and the last No. 1 of his career. It later won CMA Single of the Year, while the album Rise and Shine earned Grammy recognition. For a singer country radio had started treating like part of another era, the comeback did not come with a flashy new sound. It came with a bus, a dark highway, and three crosses standing where four people had been.

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HE WAS ON THE ROAD, TALKING TO HIS WIFE, WHEN HE SAID THE WORDS THAT WOULD TURN INTO A SONG ABOUT A MAN DYING UNDER A BRIDGE. The road had become part of the job. Airports, buses, hotel rooms, soundchecks, another city before the last one had settled in his mind. He tried to reassure her the way people on the road often do. “This is temporary,” he told her. “I’m almost home.” The phrase stayed with him. Later, Morgan and songwriter Kerry Kurt Phillips built a different story around it. Not a road song. Not a love song. A song about a homeless man lying under a bridge, cold and tired, dreaming of a woman named Jenny and a place he can finally reach. “Almost Home” did not sound like a normal radio calculation. The man in the song was not drinking in a bar, driving a truck, or trying to get a girl back. He was dying. The final turn was quiet: the police officer finds him in the morning, but the man has already gone where he believed home really was. Morgan recorded it for his 2003 album I Love It. The song became his breakthrough. It reached the country Top 10, won BMI Song of the Year recognition, and introduced a different side of Craig Morgan to listeners. They knew the soldier. They knew the working-class singer. Now they heard him telling a story about someone most people passed without seeing. Years later, Jelly Roll told Morgan that “Almost Home” had helped him through jail. That may be the strangest part of the song’s life. It began with a husband on the road trying to reassure his wife. It became a dying man’s last dream. Then it reached people in places Craig Morgan could not have imagined when he first said the words into a phone.

NINE YEARS AFTER COUNTRY RADIO LAST TOOK RANDY TRAVIS TO NO. 1, HE CAME BACK WITH A SONG ABOUT THREE CROSSES BESIDE A HIGHWAY. By the early 2000s, Randy Travis was no longer the new man changing Nashville. The years of “On the Other Hand,” “Forever and Ever, Amen,” and “Deeper Than the Holler” were behind him. Country radio had moved toward younger voices, bigger production, and songs built for a different kind of audience. Randy was still recording, still touring, still carrying the deep baritone that had helped bring traditional country back in the 1980s. But his last No. 1 had come in 1994. Then he began making gospel records. It was not a sharp break from the Randy Travis people already knew. Faith had always been close to the way he sang. The voice was still slow, low, and steady. But the songs came from a different room now — less about barstools and broken promises, more about judgment, mercy, and the things people carry after the road has gone dark. In 2002, he recorded “Three Wooden Crosses.” The song followed four strangers on a midnight bus bound for Mexico: a farmer, a teacher, a preacher, and a woman nobody in the story expected to matter most. Then an eighteen-wheeler came through the darkness. Three people died. Three crosses were left beside the highway. But the song did not end at the wreck. The preacher handed his bloodstained Bible to the woman who survived. Years later, her son stood in a church holding that same Bible, telling the story of the night that changed his mother’s life. Randy did not sing it like a sermon. He sang it like a country story people had to sit still and hear all the way through. The record kept climbing. In May 2003, “Three Wooden Crosses” reached No. 1 — Randy Travis’s first chart-topper in eight years and the last No. 1 of his career. It later won CMA Single of the Year, while the album Rise and Shine earned Grammy recognition. For a singer country radio had started treating like part of another era, the comeback did not come with a flashy new sound. It came with a bus, a dark highway, and three crosses standing where four people had been.

FOR YEARS, NEAL MCCOY WALKED ONSTAGE BEFORE CHARLEY PRIDE. THEN ONE DAY, COUNTRY RADIO FINALLY STOPPED TREATING HIM LIKE THE OPENING ACT. He had grown up in East Texas listening to country, R&B, gospel, and whatever else came through the radio. He worked a shoe store job. He sang in clubs. He entered a talent contest in Dallas in 1981, and Janie Fricke heard enough to help him get in front of Charley Pride’s people. For years, Neal toured as Charley Pride’s opening act. Night after night, he walked out before the crowd had fully settled in. He sang while people were still finding their seats, still buying beer, still waiting for the name on the ticket to come onstage. Charley Pride was the star. Neal was the young singer trying to make sure people remembered him after the headliner had finished. He got a small record deal in the late 1980s. He released singles. They barely moved. The label closed. Then Atlantic signed him and changed the spelling of his name from McGoy to McCoy because people had already started calling him that anyway. The first albums did not break through either. “One More Time.” “Where Forever Begins.” “Now I Pray for Rain.” The songs charted, but not enough to change his life. For a singer who had spent years opening for a legend, it must have felt like country music was still asking him to stand at the edge of the stage and wait his turn. Then came “No Doubt About It.” Released at the end of 1993, the song climbed slowly into 1994. It became Neal McCoy’s first No. 1 country record. Then “Wink” followed it to No. 1. The album went platinum. The singer who had spent years warming up crowds for Charley Pride suddenly had crowds waiting for him. And he never forgot where he had learned how to hold a room. In 1994, Neal recorded Charley Pride’s “You’re My Jamaica” and brought Pride in to sing on it with him. The opening act had become a star, but he still took time to stand beside the man who had let him ride the road long before radio gave him a reason to headline.