Welcome to Grace Over Guilt. I'm Dan Kaufman.

Happy New Year. It's the first Friday of 2026, and I wanted to start the year with something a little different. Today's Moment episode isn't about the hard stuff. It's not about the dark times or the lessons learned through pain.

Today, I want to share a memory that makes me smile. A moment with my daughters that I carry with me. Because even in the darkest chapters, there are these pockets of light. These moments that remind you what you're fighting for.

This is about game night.

THE SETUP

When I first got out of jail in 2022, I didn't have much to offer my daughters. I didn't have a house to bring them to. I didn't have a lot of money to take them on trips or buy them things.

So when we spent time together, we had to get creative. We had to find things to do that didn't require anything but being together.

That's how game night became our thing.

Board games. Card games. Movies, Walks.  Anything that let us sit together and have something to focus on besides the elephant in the room. Besides the questions, neither of us knew how to ask. Besides the weight of everything that had happened.

At first, I think we all saw it as a way to pass the time. Something to fill the awkward silences. But it became something more than that. It became a space where we could just be together. Where we could laugh. Where we could be a family, even if everything else in our lives had changed.

THE GAMES

We played everything. Whatever we could get our hands on. Some games we'd played a hundred times before. Some were new discoveries. It didn't really matter what we were playing. What mattered was that we were playing together.

There's something about games that brings out people's real personalities. The competitive streak. The strategy brain. The sore loser. The gracious winner. When you're focused on the game, you forget to be guarded. You forget to perform. You're just... you.

I got to see my daughters in those moments. Not as kids navigating their parents' divorce. Not as teenagers trying to figure out how to relate to a dad who just got out of jail. Just as themselves. Laughing when something funny happened. Getting frustrated when the dice didn't go their way. Celebrating when they won.

And they got to see me. Not the dad who had screwed everything up. Not the guy trying too hard to reconnect. Just me. Making dumb jokes. Probably taking the games a little too seriously. Being present in a way I hadn't been for a long time.

THE MOMENTS

There are specific moments from those game nights that I still think about. I won't go into all of them because some things are private. Some memories are just for us.

But I can tell you this: there were moments of pure joy. The kind of laughter where your stomach hurts. The kind of moments where, just for a second, everything else disappeared. No divorce. No jail. No broken family. Just a dad and his kids, making each other laugh over a board game.

Those moments didn't fix anything. They didn't undo the damage or rebuild trust overnight. But they mattered. They reminded all of us that underneath everything, the connection was still there. It was bruised. It was strained. But it wasn't gone.

And when you're at rock bottom, holding onto those moments of connection is everything. They're the evidence that things can get better. That the relationship isn't beyond repair. That there's still something worth fighting for.

WHY IT MATTERED

Game night mattered because it gave us something we could share. Something that was just ours. Something that wasn't about the past or the future, just about the present moment.

In a time when I couldn't give my daughters stability, couldn't give them a normal family life, couldn't give them the dad they used to have... I could give them game night. I could give them my presence. I could give them laughter.

And here's what I learned: kids don't need you to be perfect. They don't need expensive trips or fancy gifts. They need moments. Real moments where you're actually there, actually engaged, actually enjoying being with them.

Those game nights weren't about the games. They were about connection. They were about saying, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. And even though everything is different, some things can stay the same."

That's why it mattered. That's why I still smile when I think about it.

THE UNIVERSAL TRUTH

Whatever your situation is, whatever relationships you're trying to maintain or rebuild, here's what I want you to take from this: find your game night.

It doesn't have to be games. It can be anything. Cooking together. Watching a show. Going for walks. Working on a project. The activity doesn't matter. What matters is that you're doing something together. Something that creates space for real moments to happen.

When relationships are strained, when there's distance or hurt or awkwardness, trying to force deep conversation usually backfires. It puts pressure on something that's already fragile. But doing something together takes the pressure off. It lets connection happen naturally, in the spaces between turns. In the laughter over something funny that happened. In the shared experience of the activity itself.

Find your game night. Whatever that looks like for you. And protect it. Make it a priority. Because those moments add up. They become the foundation for rebuilding. They become the memories you hold onto when things are hard.

WHERE WE ARE NOW

I won't pretend that everything is perfect now. As I mentioned in Wednesday's episode, my relationship with my daughters is still a work in progress. We don't have game nights like we used to. Life has changed. They're older. I was away again. Everything is different, again.

But I hold onto those memories. I hold onto the evidence that we can have good moments together. That the connection isn't lost. That's when we're together, when we let our guard down, we can still laugh. We can still enjoy each other's company.

And that gives me hope. Even on the days when my oldest doesn't respond to my messages. Even when I feel like I'm reaching into a void. I remember game night. I remember that we have this. And I believe we can have it again.

Hope is a powerful thing. And sometimes, it's built on nothing more than a memory of sitting around a table, rolling dice, and hearing your kids laugh.

FOR THOSE STARTING OVER

If you're listening to this and you're at a similar place, if you're a parent who's lost touch with your kids, if you're someone trying to rebuild relationships that have been damaged, I want to encourage you.

You don't need to have everything figured out. You don't need to know the right words to say. You don't need a plan for fixing everything. You just need to be willing to show up and do something together.

Start small. Suggest an activity. It doesn't have to be profound. It can be as simple as a board game or a movie or a walk around the block. Just something that puts you in the same space, doing the same thing, for a little while.

And don't put pressure on it. Don't expect one game night to fix years of hurt. Just enjoy the moment for what it is. A moment. A building block. A single piece of a much larger puzzle.

Over time, those moments add up. They become something. They become the foundation for whatever comes next.

This is the first episode of Grace Over Guilt in 2026. And I wanted to start the year with something hopeful. Something that reminds me, and hopefully reminds you, that even in the darkness there are moments of light.

Game night with my daughters is one of those lights for me. It's a memory I carry. A moment I'm grateful for. A reminder of what I'm fighting to rebuild.

Whatever your game night is, whatever those moments of connection look like in your life, hold onto them. Treasure them. And when things are hard, remember that they happened. Remember that connection is possible. Remember that laughter can exist even in the middle of the storm.

That's what grace over guilt is really about. It's not about ignoring the past or pretending the hard stuff didn't happen. It's about holding onto the good alongside the bad. It's about believing that the moments of light matter, even when the darkness feels overwhelming.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for starting 2026 with me. I'll be back on Monday with another Story episode, continuing the journey through the chapters of my life.

Until then, remember: Grace Over Guilt. Always.