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.

Flowers

After a short nap I felt more refreshed. I got up and went outside where the morning was crisp, the air clean. Birds were flying in or out of the mountains – I’m not really sure. I saw a house in the distance, brown with a grey roof, and my KerDoodle friend, who was once again standing beside me, pointed to the upstairs window.

“We’re everywhere,” he said.

“Will you ever get over the flower thing?”

“With help, maybe. Perhaps if you show strength, we will.”

“What do you mean? I show strength.”

“Of course you do.”

There was something about the way he said this that I wasn’t too keen on, but I let it go.

“Do you have a name?” I asked.

“What’s the first name you think of?”

“Clive.”

“That’s it.”

Somehow I wasn’t surprised by this. I gazed off into the mountains, letting this most unusual tableau form itself around me, and I took a moment, rubbing the bump on my head, to wonder where it was all going. How long would I be able to see these fascinating creatures? Indeed, was I even seeing them at all? Perhaps it was all a dream, conjured in a Dickensian way by a bit of under-done potato. Or by a bump on the head.

Whatever it was, it was very realistic, and once again I scribbled what I saw.

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.

Fear

He went slowly back to the wall, and that’s when I noticed his friends.

“So there’s more than one of you, then,” I said.

“Of course! There’s at least one KerDoodle for every human on the planet.”

“At least one?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, some of you take a lot of work. And sometimes, through certain – um – circumstances, there are – um – spares.”

He slunk back in behind the wall and looked suspiciously down at the flower.

“Why are you so nervous about that flower?” I asked.

As if afraid to speak louder, he whispered: “We don’t know what it is, or what it’s for. So we’re careful.”

“Has it ever hurt you before?”

“No, but it could. We’re all very suspicious.”

“How do you know it could if you’ve never gone near it?”

I watched them all as they continued to stare at the little flower, wondering for a moment who had put it in its little pot.

“It’s not going to bite you,” I said.

“So you say, but for now we’ll just keep our distance.”

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.

A bump to the head

It’s a curious story. I bumped my head in the kitchen and the next thing I knew I could see KerDoodles. They were everywhere! I was amazed. And while the one I first spoke to seemed a little scared, he was also very pleased to see me.

”Oh, I’m so  happy,” he said. “Now we can tell our story. Now the world will know that we’re here, and that we also need love.”

Having nothing with me at the first encounter but a pencil box and a piece of paper I did what I could to reproduce what I was seeing, though I know that my first sketches were a little trepidatious. To be honest, even as I was sketching, I wasn’t entirely sure that I wasn’t still in some kind of danger. Anyway, here’s what I came up with.  This is the first KerDoodle I ever saw.

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Such big ears! And he certainly feared that flower.

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.

Focus

As I watched, the KerDoodle I had met turned suddenly purple before me.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Nothing much,” he answered. “Our natural colour is white, but we change to adapt to the person we’re with.”

“You’re a chameleon,” I pronounced.

“We are flexible,” he replied. “It is less important for us to be who we are than to support those to whom we are assigned.”

He moved out from behind his wall and came slowly toward me, stretching each leg out as far as possible while walking as if using them to divine water.

“But why purple?”

“Well, I don’t know you yet. Purple’s like a base colour for us – it’s where we begin. As we get to know each other you’ll see that we adjust ourselves to who you are.”

“Fascinating!” I beamed. “So, are you new to me or have you always been around?”

He laughed a little. “I’ve been around since you were born. I was there when you were born. And I knew I was assigned to you even before that day.” He paused. “As we all do. We have to. We have work to do to prepare for you, and for your problems.”

“So, there’s a KerDoodle for everybody?” I could hardly contain my excitement.

“Yes.”

“Like an angel – a guardian angel!”

“Well, not exactly. Those guys’ll step in and save you if they feel they need, but we can’t. All we can do is support you while you’re here. We can’t influence events – we can only help you through them.”

“And how do you do that?”

“Oh, buddy, it hurts that you don’t already know. After all, we’ve already been through so much together.” His face brightened. “But that’s why it’s so wonderful that you can see me now. It truly is – you have no idea.”

We fell silent, then, and looked at each other. It was… satisfactory. There was a connection – that much could not be denied – but it was still tentative, still founded on things that were unknown. I watched as he moved again toward me, and as he drew his face most comfortably near my own.

I remember it perfectly. This is what he looked like.

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.