God and I work hand in hand in the garden. I pile the leaves he rots to soil, I sow the seeds he blesses with life. I add the water, he the sun, and we wait together. While we wait, we turn to the dying. He lets me know who is ready to go, and I give things a little push. He slows things down, I speed it up. When the flowers bloom, we rejoice. Afterwards, I collect the seeds, and add the bodies to the compost heap he blesses with decay. In the winter, we stay busy, waiting.