I’m known for being sunshine and rainbows wherever I go.

I’m the girl who adds a spicy song to the gym playlist to get the whole room pumped up. I compliment total strangers on the street. I pet every puppy I pass. And all of that is authentically me.

But it’s not all of me.

I was reminded of that—profoundly—yesterday on a rare rainy day in La Jolla.

There I was in a line of about twenty people at the CVS pharmacy, just wanting to get home, crawl under the covers, and call it a night. It had been that kind of day.

In front of me stood a woman with a tiny dog wandering around on the world’s longest leash. She was oblivious to everyone around her, deep in conversation on her phone. At one point, she threw her hands up to gesture wildly and nearly smacked me in the face. Then she started backing up and almost stepped on me.

And out it came—the full-on Philadelphia Eagles, City-of-Brotherly-Shove version of me:

“Hey, I’m right behind you here.”

Now, it wasn’t unreasonable to ask her to be aware of her surroundings. But it was the way I said it—my tone, my face, my whole energy—that announced, "Don’t test me, lady."

Instantly, I was annoyed… not just with her but with myself.

I didn’t have the capacity—like flipping a switch—to soften my mood. And her response didn’t help: a series of exaggerated, performative apologies clearly meant to chastise me for daring to call her out.

My annoyance doubled. I avoided eye contact. I finished my business.

And then the thought hit me:

What if she shows up at church on Sunday… and there I am in the prayer line?

What kind of testimony was that?

As I began beating myself up, a deeper truth surfaced:
My testimony has never been one of perfection.

Pretending otherwise would betray all I've learned about authenticity. 

I’ve always said I’m “flawsome,” and yesterday was a reminder of why that word matters.

I even fantasized about running into her again so I could apologize. Or better yet, having her show up at church so I could make it right. But in the meantime, I realized something:

I was making a tense situation worse by being so hard on myself.

Because here’s the thing…

We’re going to run into some grinches this holiday season.

People are stressed.
Bank accounts are shrinking.
Presents need buying. Cookies need baking.
Family triggers multiply like snowflakes.
Relatives with the magical ability to say the exactly wrong thing will be seated at your table.

But beyond all that, there will also be moments when WE are the Grinch.

And that’s why my exhortation this holiday season is simple:

Show grace to yourself.

Walk in this grace long enough, and you’ll have more than enough to offer everyone else.

Grace is most needed (and most powerful) when we feel weak.

So if you’re feeling weak this week, weary, stretched thin, or a little more green-and-grumpy than usual…

Access some grace.
And sprinkle it like glitter
over everything and everyone—
including yourself.