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Ribcage Tabernacles

I implore you to listen to your heart. Not in the trite metaphorical sense, but literally. Find yourself a stethoscope, sit down, and listen to that muscle throbbing in your chest. I did it the other day and it was mesmerizing. The first and most astounding realization was that my heart has been pumping blood to my body nonstop since I was a tiny human in my mother’s womb. When I really ponder that reality, it’s breathtaking. My heart has never stopped to rest. Through all the growing pains and surprises and milestones, it just keeps on keepin' on. And there are hearts so much older than my own. Hearts that have been keeping time since 1918, hearts that have lived through wars and famines, hearts that have held unspeakable grief and immeasurable joy.

God quite literally speaks in the depths of our hearts. The One who set my heart in motion has been using it to whisper a steady litany of love to me for 21 years. Each beat and each moment between is swollen with sacredness; He has never stopped gazing upon me, and that relentless cadence is evidence. Each thump says, I want you here. Because my heart doesn’t have to be beating, but it is. And I don’t have to be here, but I am.

And He sings that same love song to you, too. He loved you into existence and continues to will it so with every dang heartbeat of yours. You are loved and it is good that you are alive. It might seem like a clichéd sentiment, but it's simply the truth. May we never forget that inside our ribcages there is unceasing proof of it.

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