“The secret is with the cherries—dark red—tart ones from Michigan,” she added. “After I pitted them, I cooked them down with honey and brown sugar ‘til syrupy, then whipped them in the food processor before adding them to the filling. Would you like to try some?”

It looked velvety-plain, blushed with regal hues. Slowly, I spooned some on my tongue, set a-tingle with inside-out sweetness and smacking with chocolate wafer cookie crust—yet instantly, sadness set in: I must swallow this treat.

Such experiences scrape free the perimeters of routine living, blow cobwebs aside, and open new vistas of joy. It’s all about plunging into the present moment, shimmering with inner harmonies, brimming with sensuousness, and replete with buoyancy. Pleasure peaks beyond imagining. However the imperative to hold fast such experiences paradoxically loosens our grip.

Yet we remember such foretastes of heaven. We’ve been visited and we know it.

Evidently the Psalmist had such an experience when he exclaimed, Taste and see the goodness of the Lord (34:8). That was over two thousand years ago.

We are in good company.