Holy KerDoodle


“I think you’re ready,” said Clive.

“For what?”

“To see us in action.”

“Haven’t I been seeing you already?”

“Well, yes, but not in action. We actually have a job to do, you know. Let’s go meet the Padre.”

He led me away from the two-storey house, the mountains and the indecisive birds towards a church with a very tall steeple. A tall, cassock’d KerDoodle was standing in front, hands clasped loosely together, watching us approach. From a distance he looked to have a pinkish hue, but when I got closer I could see that he was just as mauve as the rest of them.

Clive stepped forward, extending his three-fingered hand, and they shook. He introduced me. We smiled, and laughed, and I couldn’t help but wonder at the strangeness of this little turn in my life.

“You’re here to learn,” said the Padre, apparently reading my mind.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” I replied. “Though exactly what I have no idea.”

“That’s the wonderful thing about learning – we don’t know what we need to know until we know it.”

He gave me a tour of the sandstone church. Everything was perfect – a place for everything and everything in its place. It was very well-loved, and very well looked after – even the hymn books were clean, and crisp and new. It was as if they’d never been touched by human hand.

“They haven’t,” said the Padre.

“Haven’t what?”

“Been touched by human hand.” He smiled, and I realized that they really could read my thoughts. I let this sink in quietly as the tour continued.

Afterwards we went to his kitchen for coffee. The kettle, somehow, was freshly boiled, the cups already waiting on the table, the old, but perfect, stiff wooden chairs ready and waiting for our rest and recreation.

“Biscuits, Gentlemen?”

“Lovely,” chimed both Clive and I.

We chatted at length, about this and that, that and this – covering all manner of most important matters, then Clive pointed at my pencil and paper and asked the Padre if he might allow me to draw him. The good Padre nodded most enthusiastically and sat up straight to pose for me.

Clive looked over my shoulder as I sketched. “You’re getting better,” he said, and I nodded for it was true. “Look how steady your hand is now!” He paused. “Either that or our looks are improving.”

He smiled at his wit as I kept sketching, and after a few moments I turned the drawing around on the table to show it to the Padre:

“Oh, that’s really quite satisfying,” said the Padre. “Very well done, Thank you, though in my next prayers I shall undoubtedly have to atone for the sin of Pride!”

“Well, we must be off,” announced Clive, and to the Padre he added “I think it’s time he saw some of us at work.”

We all shook hands, the Padre offered a blessing, and we headed out of the front door of the church.

“When did it get dark out?” I asked, looking around. I was amazed that the day had disappeared while we’d been inside. We crossed the road and I turned to look back at the church again. The Padre was watching us leave, and to my untrained eye it seemed that he had once again turned pink. I hurriedly took out my pad to draw what I saw, and in that moment I wondered what on earth would be next.

Follow along to learn more about the KerDoodles, and if you like, contact me to find out if you’ve got a KerDoodle of your own.

One Comment on “Holy KerDoodle

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