Sometimes, the big things in life really test your foundation when they all decide to go wrong. Seemingly at the same time. I feel, it’s as if they gathered around a table and plotted my impending doom.

“You know what? Michael really has his crap together. Joel is doing well at his job. Michael’s books are gathering momentum. They really have a great groove going on. I think it’s time I go now, don’t you think?” Finances grumbles.

“You know what, you’re right! I’m tired of Joel becoming better at me,” Job snaps.

“Man, his writing is doing so well let’s throw a few wrenches in it,” Troll laughs.

And the big reveal in this terrible plot line is that LIFE can be the troll.

I don’t know about you but sometimes when it rains, it pours. The ground has these really great puddles that I can’t help but jump in. Sometimes it makes a great splash. I have lots of laughs. But sometimes they’re deeper than I realise and I start to drown. Or a little less dramatic, I fall on my ass and make a complete fool of myself.

I can’t control the big things in my life. I’ve tried. I get worn out and I end up worse than I was if I had picked my battles a bit better. Sometimes I don’t get worn out and I succeed in my fight. Barely. But I get through.

And sometimes, sometimes, I lose. Big time. And we struggle. And things are so up in the air and uncertain that I just can’t cope.

But then something small happens. A tiny gesture. One that is almost overlooked. I have to wonder how many small gestures I’ve missed because I’m too busy fretting over the big picture. I’m seeing what I don’t have and I miss what I do. For example…

I love board games. I grew up on them. My Grandma Boyer, without fail, would have Chutes and Ladders, Candyland or Trouble set up when I came over to visit. I would learn songs over these games or she’d teach me life lessons or she’d cheat so badly that I’d swallow a penny just to keep her from winning it.

So, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that along the way I’d collect board games. I’d gear up for Friday nights with my biological family and we’d play Sorry, Tripoloy, 13 Dead End Drive, Chutes and Ladders, etc. If we had it, we played it. Playing games was a great time to forget about our troubles, our worries or the devastating violence that was happening behind closed doors. It was a sort of refuge. A white flag. Complete and jaded denial.

But it was a time to be happy.

I’d grow up well into my adulthood with this ideal that when I had my own family we’d also have a game night. It’d be perfect because it would still be a time to forget our troubles and our worries but there’d be no violence.

And you know what, it happened. I started a family. My husband, Joel, and I shared the same love for board games. But let’s be fair, I was obsessed but he took joy in my obsession. One such game, a game that I had brought with me from my biological home in the United States to my family home in Australia, was Jumanji. I loved the excitement it brought and that essentially at its core, it was a team building game. We had to race to the middle to stop the chaos the cards were bringing. Monkeys? I’d pretend monkeys filled the house. We’d have to dodge and avoid them. Vines growing around us? Quick, grab the game and let’s move rooms. The floor is quicksand? Get off the floor. On the couch or the on a chair near the table. There’s a flood? Get on the table. It was chaos and I loved it.

But as time went on that game grew old. It was well played. It was breaking apart and glue and tape and everything else wasn’t saving its age. So it became a sometimes game and the days of dragging it across the house were over.

My husband and I have a tradition. Each Christmas, “Santa” brings a gift. It is a board game. It’s opened on Christmas Eve as a family and we play it. It’s an amazing tradition. It also changes the idea of “Santa” that on the most part is a thing that ends at childhood for some. It certainly ended for me. But our tradition brought a new meaning for us. Not only was shopping for the game fun and deciding which one we’d play next, but the anticipation of not being able to open that box and play it till Christmas Eve…I cannot tell you how much joy it brings…but I’ll try anyway.

It brought a lot of joy.

This year, a month before Christmas, my husband lost his job. I was self-employed really growing as a self published author. My books were making a great change in my life and others and I was loving every minute of it. But LIFE decided to be a bit of a troll and my husband was fired. As the weeks went on and job after job application was not successful, we were making some really difficult decisions. One of them was dropping a lot of our traditions and going back to basics, which was fine, we’ve been there before. But Santa’s gift was one of those traditions that would be skipped this year.

Which is fine, because next year we can pick it back up again, right? Matter of perspective. But still, it was these big things that were happening that just dragged us down. Losing a job. Mental illness. Both of us struggling. The manner in which his job treated him and fired him and just bullied him. And there was nothing I could do about it except be there to hold him when he fell. The little things.

We’ve also had help with the rent. But those were big things. Big helps. That kept us in a home till January 1st. We had comfort for the rest of the year while we waited for help from the government, but Centrelink, it’s complicated…and it triggers more than it helps most times. So we’ve had to wait for that to be processed. (It still hasn’t. They said another 14 days from 24th of December, 2019.) So we try not to worry about the big things.

So I told someone about our tradition with “Santa” and they were so moved by it that they came back to me later with a wrapped gift and said, “Here. I found this.”

I took the box in my hands and read the label, “To Michael and Joel. From Santa.”

I looked at the person and they smiled and said, “Santa ended up coming this year after all.”

The little things.

It’s Christmas Eve. We opened Santa’s gift and you know what? It was a brand new Jumanji and I just sat there in awe. I hadn’t told that special someone about Jumanji. They were actually concerned they might have bought a repeated, but in this case, the repeat is just that little thing that has ended up meaning so much more.

But you’ll have to excuse me now, it’s Christmas Eve and the floor is quicksand. A rhino has just slammed through the backdoor and if we don’t move upstairs, we might be in trouble. So have yourself a Happy Holiday from Michael and Joel. Forget your troubles just for one night. If you’re with family or even if you are alone, just be. Smile, there is hope. Remember to play. Life can be a troll, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make the best of it.

And remember, if Joel and I go missing, we’re probably in the jungle. So if one of you could roll a 5 or 8 that would be great!