Signs from God

Signs from God.

Here's one. "Do Not Enter." That's what it says. Big red circle with a white bar across it. "Do Not" above the bar, "Enter" below it.

You'd really think God's sign would say, "Thou shalt not enter," but He keeps up with the times. Doesn't speak 17th-century English any more.

Anyway. Signs from God. He hung the Do Not Enter sign in midair over Scott's head when Maggie went on her first date with him. Tried to save her a lot of grief, but signs from God are usually tough to see.

Here's another one. It says, "Free." That's all. It got misinterpreted all the time.

"Free," said the sign.

Scholars argued. What did He mean? Obviously a sign from God. Written in that Old English blackletter He used back in the middle ages.

"Free."

Should we be free? Make others free? A sign maybe that you're free to meet God? God is free? Love is free?

What really happened was that God had an old sofa that He didn't want any more. The cat had scratched it up. There was a stain from when a bottle of wine tipped over when nobody was paying attention. The cushions were getting kind of shiny from all the rear ends that had sat on it. Time to get rid of it. Time to get a new couch. Maybe a hide-a-bed for when guests wanted to stay over. The only problem was, they were so damn heavy. God knows why. Or, really, He doesn't. He thought of asking the manufacturer.

Anyway. Time to get rid of it, but it was a perfectly good sofa. Someone should be able to use it. So he put it out by the curb. With a sign that said, "Free."

A guy in a red pickup truck was driving by. Stopped. Backed up. Muscled the couch into the back and drove off. Left the sign. Sign from God. And now a couple of rabbis and a Jesuit are trying to figure it out.