I find myself looking at her often and thinking a million and one different things about the Holy.
But lately she's had me contemplating the Incarnation -- the act of word made flesh, the moment God became a man, of the infinite emptying Himself and becoming an embryo.
She's so vulnerable. She's needy. She's entirely dependent on her father and I for her care and sustenance. She needs to be fed. She cannot dress herself. If we do not change a soiled diaper for her, it will not get changed. If she is sick, she cannot take herself to the doctor. If she needs anything, she cannot articulate it for us.
Jesus was the same way as a baby: vulnerable, needy, dependent. It's hard to think of the man who multiplied loaves and fishes, commanded the waves, and wielded the power to undo even death as vulnerable as she is. It's almost impossible to wrap my brain around the fact that God would condescend to become someone so utterly defenseless to care for himself as a baby: needing to be fed, dressed, and to have his soiled diapers changed. To be rendered mute but for His cries, to trust two of His own created for His every need.
This is the God of the universe.
In caring for her, I see Him anew and am in increasing awe of His humility.