SPELLING BEES CAN REALLY STING

A Guest Blog post by Maryel Nelson

I take you back to my childhood where I was the third of four children in our family. The oldest was David who I thought was about the most intelligent boy in the whole wide world. Next was my big sister, Jean. She was tall, pretty and smart, and boy did I want to be just like her in every way. I came along next in 1950 about five years after Jean and seven behind David. My dad always said that there was a gap in there as a result of World War II. (Mom and Dad were always practical too.) To complete our family was Vena, born 15 months after me. And if there was anything that I knew about Vena, she was abundantly brilliant. Vena was the smartest little thing. She learned things so much more quickly than I did.

My very first memory of life was at age four, and I remember sitting on the dining room floor on top of an old iron register. I can still imagine the warmth of the heat next to my little body. We were all four playing school. David and Jean were the teachers, and Vena and I were the students in the classroom. They were giving a lesson in spelling. They worked and worked trying to teach Vena and me to spell our names. Over and over they drilled us, and all of a sudden Vena could spell her name. “V-E-N-A” she would say. They were so excited with their accomplishment, and Vena was pretty proud too.

I was still working on my name, but it was decided that my name would take longer to learn since there were more letters. With that I felt much of the pressure of my first classroom experience subside. “M-A-R-Y-E-L” they repeated again and again. I would fail and again they would prod. All of a sudden, Vena said “M-A-R-Y-E-L”. David and Jean were thrilled at just how smart this little three-year old was. She could spell not only her name, V-E-N-A, but she could spell my name, M-A-R-Y-E-L.

Our little classroom experience became the topic of conversation at home for a while. And, the story was shared even with a few neighbors. Vena could spell both her name and mine, yet I still couldn’t get the spelling of my name. It was a great family story, with lots of fun for all but MARYEL. Never fear, I did eventually learn within a couple of days, but that little girl at age four felt so very defeated, in fact really pretty stupid. At that very tender age, she knew that her older brother and sister were so smart, and now the little sister was indeed a genius.

How perfectly innocent could it be for a wonderful little family with four children playing school? I’m sure that this experience was my first layer of paint on my little table called life. Through the struggle of learning to spell my name, and so many others knowing it too, came the years of my youth feeling like I could never be as smart as the others. As a result of that initial layer, I too began to add layers of paint to my life. It was shortly thereafter that I think I decided to wear the hat of “family clown”. If I couldn’t be the smartest, I could surely be the funniest. This led to years of being silly and goofy to cover what I believed to be a really dumb kid, thus, more layers of paint that I cast upon myself.

This trivial incident seems just that, so very insignificant compared to what many children experience. Mine was as a result of child’s play and a few spoken words that I received as being somewhere out of the room when the brains were handed out. But each and every experience in life builds upon who we are, whether it is feeling less intelligent than others, or something catastrophic that leaves deep wounds within one’s soul.

You see, there are plenty of people in this world holding their paintbrushes, just waiting for passersby so that they might dab at you a bit or send you a splash or two. That’s a given, and it’s not going to change. The world is full of people that will “get ‘cha”, some on purpose, maybe as a result of their past and pain, with actions and words. As for me, it was guiltless child’s play that occurred in a magnificent family of six.

James wrote:

“We all stumble in many ways. If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check. When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.” James 3:2-6

Can I be that perfect man, able to keep my whole body in check and never allow my words to put a layer of paint or even thrust a splash on those around me? Did you notice James said that all stumble? Not one of us is perfect in what we say.

Paul said it so well when he proclaimed:

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Romans 7:15

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to protect all of the little children from such things, even those innocent little times that really seem quite inconsequential? But let’s all face reality; there is no perfect household, no perfect family, no perfect mom and dad. There is not a person in the world that doesn’t have a story to tell, some more monumental than others. It makes me pause to pray:

Dear Lord, what words have I spoken to the ones I love the most that have left a layer of paint? What stories would my children share about their early years? Lord, teach me Your ways that I might not carry a paint can and brush and add the slightest of build-up upon the life of one of your children. Amen.

Maryel Nelson is a member of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church (Decatur, IL). Having served in a number of roles, she most recently stepped back from the leadership of the SPL Women’s Ministry Team. She continues to serve in the community in a number of ways, though she spends much time serving at New Life Pregnancy Center.

If you enjoyed this post, you may also enjoy Maryel’s previous contribution to our blog titled “My Old Painted Table“.