The Day I Went Looking for One Thing… and Found a Little Grace Instead
Sometimes a single errand turns into a whole adventure, especially when the holiday season has everyone acting a little… extra.
I had a quick pit stop to make before heading to the airport — one simple mission, truly — because the store was holding the item I ordered over the phone. In my mind, I had just enough time to speedwalk in, grab it, speedwalk out, and still make my flight like a responsible grown-up.
That was the plan.
Clean. Efficient. Adult-like.
But the moment you hit the parking lot, reality taps you on the shoulder and says, “Oh honey… no.”
First, the parking spot situation. You’re feeling festive, sipping your peppermint mocha, humming along…until someone in a massive SUV swoops into the exact spot you’ve been politely stalking for several long minutes.
Patience is supposed to be a virtue, but honestly? At this point it should count as cardio.
You finally park, climb out, and remember — because your brain is a pinball machine — that your grandchild mentioned a “limited-edition Labubu.” So of course you swing by the toy store “just for a second.” You have time. You tell yourself this. You absolutely do not have time.
Now… Labubu. For reasons the universe has not fully explained, this quirky little goblin-plush creature with oversized ears is the HOT collectible of 2025. Unboxing videos everywhere. Kids begging. Adults trading them like tiny, furry Super Bowl tickets. And you — a fully functional adult — are now part of this nonsensical treasure hunt.
You stand in front of the Labubu display trying to understand the appeal. You even tilt your head, like maybe it’ll help. But of course the shelf is empty. Wiped. Gone. As if someone came through with a vacuum and sucked up every last odd little creature.
A small group of equally baffled adults is gathered, all staring at the emptiness like maybe a Labubu will feel bad for you and materialize. Then a woman whispers, “Someone found one at the other store yesterday.” Everyone leans in like she’s giving away cheat codes to the universe.
You snap out of it. Right. Your original mission.
You pivot, determined to get your pre-ordered item and salvage this tiny sliver of time you have before the airport. And that’s when you encounter that family.
The stroller-stopping, mitten-adjusting, snack-distributing, drifting-as-a-unit family who’s just joyfully living their best mall life… while blocking the ENTIRE walkway.
You hover. You wait. You try to be gracious. But they stop… then start… then stop again… like a human traffic light permanently stuck on yellow.
So you do the thing. You break formation and go upstream — weaving against the flow of people like a determined winter salmon.
You finally reach the counter, announce your name, and accept your tightly wrapped bag with quiet triumph… until you peek inside.
Wrong item. Of course.
Now you face the moral dilemma: do you exchange it and risk being late… or convince yourself that this slightly-wrong version is “basically the same” because you cannot emotionally walk past that family again?
You negotiate with yourself.
“It’s fine.” “They’ll like it.” “Close enough.” “It’s not that different…”
But something nudges at you — an annoying, persistent whisper that says, “You still have a few minutes… go on… check for Labubu again.”
And apparently you listen to voices now, because off you go.
You hit the escalator at full power. And then — because the mall gods have a sense of humor — the person at the top steps off and immediately stops walking.
Just… stops.
You nearly cause a four-person pileup as your forward momentum collides with their holiday-season brain freeze. It’s like someone threw an invisible brick wall in front of you.
But you recover, sidestep, and dart around them because you are now in last-ditch Labubu-hunting mode.
Store to store you go — peering behind displays, scanning the shelves like maybe, just maybe, a miracle Labubu survived the rush.
No luck.
So you finally give up, clutch your wrong-item bag, and speedwalk back toward the parking lot — determined to salvage whatever time you have left before they start boarding your flight.
And that’s when you enter the pedestrian cha-cha.
People stepping into crosswalks like they’re invincible. Drivers treating the crosswalk like it’s optional. Everyone merging into this weird holiday shuffle where nobody knows who’s going, who’s stopping, or who’s in charge.
You bob and weave your way across, finally reach your car, and think,“If I get out of here fast and catch every green light, I might actually make it through security without sprinting and hurdling…”
But then… you roll directly behind the sweetest elderly woman on earth — someone exactly like my sister.
She is offering an abundance of grace — letting every impatient car cut in front of her. Every. Single. One.
She smiles. She waves them through. She radiates goodness.
Meanwhile you sit behind her — panicked, hangry, gripping your steering wheel like it’s a flotation device — whispering, “Come on… I love your spirit… but please… I am begging you…”
And somewhere between your hunger, the wrong item beside you, the Labubu disappointment, and the crosswalk chaos, a small truth finally settles in with your deepest exasperated sigh:
Everyone is doing the best they can today.
We’re all overwhelmed. We’re all navigating overpriced everything. We’re all trying to make someone’s holiday special.
Some people have time to give. Some people are rushing on fumes. Some are blocking the walkway. Some are letting half the county merge ahead of them.
And maybe — just maybe — the kindest thing we can do for each other in all this ridiculous seasonal chaos… is soften our hearts a little.
A kind assumption. A tiny bit of grace. A reminder that every single one of us is stumbling through the same maze.
And that’s one gift that never sells out.
🐝 Thank you for reading — may your errands be smooth and your patience stay intact.💛
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Kindness & Care: This article offers encouragement and general education. It isn’t medical, psychological, or legal advice, and it can’t replace care from a licensed professional. If you need support, call or text 988 (US).