Mrs. Evelyn L. Ryan

My newest hero is a woman named Evelyn Ryan from the book I just finished, Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio. (It's also a really good movie.) This woman was a mother of 10, married to a barely functional alcoholic (he managed to go to work, but spent a huge part of his minimal income on alcohol.) She juggled her children, her husband and their poverty all by herself. Again and again she faced the most dire circumstances with nothing to fall back on except her wit, faith, and the grace of God. Which, by the way, came through every time. She refused to be a victim and wouldn't allow her children that luxury either. What a woman.

The other thing I LOVE about Mrs. Ryan is that writing was her outlet. She used her trials for inspiration and transformed them into charming little poems and essays. She would have been the ultimate blogger.

I have much to learn from Evelyn. Maybe next time my relatively few children are bickering or my wonderfully loving husband fails to read my mind, or I don't have enough money to buy something really frivolous I'll stop and remember to be grateful, cheerful and faithful (after I blog about it, of course).


As a little bonus for reading my ramblings, here are a couple of poems by someone who really knew how to write, Mrs. Ryan:

Flaw

A husband's a treasure,
A jewel, and a joy;
An in-the-rough diamond;
A gem of a boy;
A pearl of great price,
It has often been said...
But mine has one foible
That makes me see red!
It's been a hard day
From the opening gong;
The washing, the cooking
Have all turned out wrong;
The kids have been hellions;
The house is a wreck.
Now, watch how far Hubby can
Stick out his neck:
With hand on the doorknob,
With pause to survey,
With "Mother, what have you
Been doing all day?"


Writer's Resolution

Enough's enough! No more shall I
Pursue the Muse and scorch the pie;
Or dream of authoring a book
When I (unhappy soul) must cook;
Or burn the steak while I wool-gather,
And stir my spouse into a lather
Invoking words like "Darn!" and such
And others that are worse (Oh, much!)
Concerning culinary knack
Which I (he says) completely lack.
I'll keep my mind upon my work;
I'll learn each boresome cooking quirk;
This day shall mark a new leaf's turning...
That sm--l! Oh H--l! The beans are burning!


Every time I pass the church
I stop and make a visit
So when I'm carried in feet first
God won't say, "Who is it?"