I've always found the phrase "words cannot describe" to be a little odd. When you think about it, words are all we really have to describe something. But in writing about my Mom and what she means to me, I can appreciate the sentiment. Words alone do not seem adequate, but since they're all I've got I'll try to use some.
First, I'll borrow some words from Joseph Smith:
When Joseph Smith gave what are now called the Articles of Faith he was speaking not just as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, but as a disciple of Jesus Christ. His use of the pronoun "we" incorporates all who believe in and follow the Savior, but I believe it applies particularly toward women and mothers.
There has been no better example of someone who hopes all things and hopes to be able to endure all things than my mother. Her quiet perseverance through many, many trials has been a great example to me.
A week or two ago in our Sunday School class, we were talking about why we're given weaknesses and trials. The apostle Paul said this:
My calling as a counselor in the Bishopric over the last 2 years has given a unique perspective on this subject. I have the opportunity to observe the members of the ward during Sacrament meeting, and I often see young mothers in distress. I see them struggling to gain control of small children with their own agendas and, much like Paul, it makes me smile.
It's not that I take pleasure in seeing their difficulties. Part of me smiles because I know that, at least this time, it's not my own child causing the chaos. The rest of me smiles because it reveals to me that mother's faith and testimony. Mother's know their children better than anyone. Most mother's know full well the challenge they will be facing each time they bring their kids to church, but they come anyway. They know there will be fighting and loud talking. There will be plenty of wiggling and shushing, but still they come.
I'll never forget the time as a child sitting with my family quietly waiting for the deacon to reach our row so I could take the sacrament when all of the sudden my younger brother became so fed up with whatever my older sister was doing to him that he shouted out "Why don't you fight me like a man!" Like most children my siblings and I were a liability. With five of us, it was a near certainty that one of us would misbehave, break something, or just be a general nuisance. But my mom worked all morning every Sunday to get us ready and took us to church.
So, thanks, Mom, for having the faith and courage to follow what you knew to be right. Thank you for enduring all things. I know I'm not alone when I say that as I seek for virtuous, lovely, of good report or praiseworthy things I don't have to look any farther than you.