Maybe you were volunteering on a Habitat for Humanity project and the standing of a completed wall brought a rush of adrenaline that was beyond what should have been there for the simple application of hammers to nails.
Maybe you were in a delivery room and you saw the orchestral movements of nurses and doctors and husbands and mothers. You remember the beyond-words magic of a crying baby and a life unveiled.
I remember my own moments. I remember moments in a sports arena, cheering on modern-day gladiators with thousands of others, getting swept up in the metaphor of an us-versus-them battle that represents such a larger reality.
I remember being in a hotel in Naivasha, Kenya singing of the kindness of a savior in the darkness of an African night, disparate souls tied with a common experience and a common yearning to be led to repentance.
I remember the embrace of men in a hospital hallway before being wheeled into surgery, the weight of their hands pressing their faith into my weary body.
I remember the feeling of my new wife's hands in mine as we explored Seattle on our honeymoon. Alone in a charming, bustling metropolis, we were at once in our own world and yet connected with the larger Love that bound us.
I remember the last time my daughter squeezed my neck, knowing that such deep joy could not come from such an arbitrary embrace apart from a transcendent Source being represented in that moment.
What do you remember?