Signs, Signs, Everywhere a Sign

I'm not much for yard signs, although there are two signs in my front yard as I type this--assuming no students came along in the middle of the night and replaced them with flamingos or plastic forks.  One of my signs, in particular, makes me smile, because it represents my friend Annie's courage, as well as my hope for a sparkly future.

I suppose it's possible that someone driving well beyond the speed limit down Woods Avenue might mistake my signs for birth announcements, considering that first names are prominently displayed on them--ANNIE and MEG--and given that "It's a Boy" and "It's a Girl" now seem kind of passe.

Anyway, I am not quick to say "OK" when a candidate asks if my lawn would like to be aerated with promotional materials.

More than anything, it's my sense of neighborliness that dictates my hesitation.  I am very much in favor of being a good neighbor, regardless of affiliations.  And it would kill me if a neighbor didn't come over to borrow an egg just because of a stupid sign I have in my yard.

Even though it kills some Republicans to refer to our country as a Democracy (just as some knuckleheaded Democrats choke on the word "republic"), democracy--at least in its old-timey form--once was a strong advocate for just such equal access and interchange.   But these days, when the go-to modus operandi is bulging veins and spittle, a yard sign can feel a bit like an aggressive line in the sand.

"Beware!  Cross with caution, all ye who listen to Rush (both the radio guy AND the annoying 80s band)!" 

And here's where I'm going straight to the crapper, because the signs that affect me most these days aren't even political, unless Jesus is running for an office and I didn't realize it. 

Maybe I'm just one of those sniveling spiritual weaklings who is too embarrassed to wave any sort of "I like God!' flags for fear that someone might expect more of me, but sometimes I struggle when I happen upon the "Jesus, I Trust in You" yard signs that I keep seeing around town.  . . . and not only because of their unfortunate color combination and cartoony depiction of an otherwise awesome being. 

For me, they can feel like a gate-less fence--a barrier rather than an invitation to come over and share a beer and chat about things.  Sometimes, I swear I can even see a wagging finger of spiritual superiority and hear a voice that hisses to me "Better luck next time, sucker!"

Yeah, I know.  This is all probably just a sign that I need to live a better life, or at least get on some decent meds. And, frankly, I'm secretly hoping that it really is just me, because the alternative is much harder for me to bear.