You’re 25 weeks old, and the only sound you’re aware of is a low, slow, boom, boom, boom coming from above you. Despite the newness of the sound, and the smallness of your body, you are not frightened. The sound reverberates around you, so steady, so constant, it makes you feel that you are not alone. With no hands to hold you and only a gentle sound to rock you, sleep descends.
Months pass, things change, and soon you’re in an entirely new place. It’s bigger, louder, and colder. Nostalgic for the dark, warm world in which you spent most of your life, different sounds emerge—seemingly from you! But there it is: amidst the strangeness and discomfort of change, that gentle beat remains. Boom, boom, boom.
How many people have heard your heartbeat? Felt it? In the history of your life, who has gotten close enough and listened carefully enough to do so? Who studied its gentle rhythms? Who felt it break? Who hears it sing? Who has fallen asleep listening?
You sit in the doctors’ office, swinging your dangling feet from the tall table. A woman in a white coat comes in and asks how you’re feeling. You’re sleepy, you’re sore, and you’re shivery all over. The kind lady gently presses her cold silver stethoscope against your chest, “Just breathe in deeply… very good.” And while your symptoms aren’t gone yet, you somehow feel a little bit better. You know you’re being taken of. You know you will be healed.
“I love you.” The words make your heart jump. Your knees go weak, your mind goes blank, and all you can do is hold wide your arms. The closeness of the embrace reminds you of someplace warm. Like a childhood lullaby, there emerges a primal, intimate sound: boom, boom, boom.
The Eternal Father, the Divine Doctor, the Lover of our soul. Jesus, our God and our all, knows our hearts in the most intimate way possible. He has kept it beating since 21 days after He brought you into existence. He heals your heart when it falls away from Him. He infuses His heart with yours when you receive Him in the Eucharist.
He is conceived within your heart, and gestates there, abiding within you. He kicks and squirms in times of trial to remind you that He is there. He is birthed through your kind words and actions, grows in you and moves through you.
Who could know your heart better than the One who created it? Who could love your heart more than the One who dwells in it? To Whom can you entrust your heart when it breaks? Who rejoices more than He when He hears the song of your heart?
Who better than Jesus, our heart, our life, our everything?