We surfaced the other day, my husband and me. Bobbed up after having been submerged in the challenges and complexities of stress, tantrums, hectic schedules, holiday crunch time, and career responsibilities. When we surfaced we found ourselves in one of the most luxurious moments of life. It was one of those spells I want to compound. More than just burning it on my brain, I want to relive that memory again and again. I want to hit play and repeat…I suppose that’s part of why I’m sharing it here.

Here’s what I mean: Have you had one of those meals or nights or walks or adventures with your children recently where you realize there is simply nothing better? Where you wake up in a moment and consider that it is for this moment, this one space in the continuum of time, that you were made to be? When you come to feel like it’s why you’re alive?

In my opinion it happens to all of us in profoundly new ways when we are lucky enough to raise children. And it’s usually unexpected. These pristine, magical moments with our children and family don’t come with proper planning. They don’t usually happen on vacation, at the fancy meal, or at the picnic we’ve planned for 2 weeks. We often don’t have our fancy shoes on. The moments tumble into our lives when we least expect it with absolutely zero material value. But like falling in love for the first time, these moments sweep us up off our feet and arrive without a hint of warning.

This is, I believe, the gift of the season of our lives. When parenthood exceeds expectations.

Recently I was talking with a good friend about these rare moments. The ones that happen where your children are enticed by conversation, fully engaged in a game or meal, where they get along with each other, and you realize there is nothing more precious or intimate. Often it seems these moments follow illness or fear. But sometimes it doesn’t take a trigger or challenge. Recently a moment appeared for my friend when she and her husband had cancelled a date night. They were too exhausted, decided to stay home and have dinner with their children and just crash. And it happened–the moment–they connected, their children were angels at dinner, delighted and laughing, present and mindful. She and her husband looked up at each other and realized they were woven into one of those meals they wouldn’t trade the world for. Really.

For us it happened late Thursday night on the floor of our living room. Our six year-old had received Mastermind (a board game) for his birthday and the four of us teamed up to play. It was the first time I’d played in 25 years and each of us presented to the game with excitement. We were enticed to win, eager, and we each giggled as we navigated and explored ways to outsmart the others.

And there we were, lying on a hard wooden floor, surrounded by the darkness of winter entirely together with only little plastic playing pieces between us. Momentous connection and family intimacy. I can barely articulate why and how I knew it was one of those moments except that I realized this is really as good as it gets.