It was the second Sunday after the baptismal service out at the lake and she was finding it impossible to concentrate on the sermon.
She thought about what it must be like to have a doctor who was “yours,” as though they were a member of the household staff, like your gardener or your nanny or your cook. Must be nice to have a doctor instead of the doctors having you — to have a doctor be someone whose help you could summon when needed, instead of someone you had to approach as a supplicant, like Esther in the court of the king.
She shifted uncomfortably in the pew. Symptoms were definitely persisting. She would have to make an appointment.
She flipped through the bulletin to find the church calendar for the week. The Prayer Warriors sidewalk vigil was scheduled for Wednesday, so she could call first thing tomorrow and schedule an appointment for Tuesday. Inconvenient to make the same trip two days in a row, but safer than risking running into anyone the day of her visit.
The rustle of pages brought her back to attention and she looked up at the screen behind the pastor to follow the reading. It was from the Gospel of Matthew:
“Be careful,” Jesus said to them. “Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”
She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the smile.