O'Keeffe, God, & Trees
Of Pedernal, the mesa in the distance above, Georgia O'Keeffe said, "It's my private mountain. It belongs to me. God told me if I painted it enough, I could have it."
The love O'Keeffe had for her mountain is similar to the way I feel about trees. I love the light shifting through the leaves and branches, the sound of the wind moving them.
This delight in trees is a gift from God to me, evidence of His delight in me.
I suppose that's the closest daily image I have of experiencing what the Trinity is like, in its perfect dance of giving and receiving, of finding joy in one another.
As He delights in me, I delight in Him: glimpses of His glory living and singing in the trees.
Update: May 6, 2020
I just learned that the literal translation of the Hebrew word for glory is heavy. John Jefferson Davis writes, "To say that God is heavy is to recognize the intensity and the density of the reality of the divine being, in comparison with which the things of creation are but wisps or vapor or dreams." When I look up at the avenue of oak trees in my neighborhood park, standing 100 years tall, I think of how sturdy and lasting they are compared to me; yet they are but a whisper compared to the solidity of my God who made them, only glimpses of His very real presence in a fading creation.