I was sitting in church where a mother was binking a querulous baby a few rows up. I'm so glad we are given the grace of the instruction not to be willfully distracted during mass, for the sweet little fellow kept drawing me in. We have an amazing mural of the risen Christ, and the idea came to me that Jesus had been a baby. I know this. We make a big fuss every Christmas about it, but the fact that the Creator of the Universe used to poop his pants isn't something I'd put much thought into. It's worth thinking about. There are spiritual enterprises where I'm lucky to get my poo in the pants, poo in the pants is a good day. On those days and in those areas of my life Christ is in his infancy in me. He is still fully God and all-powerful. He is still completely present and hard at work, but he is not yet what he will be--in me.
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