A Tribute to my Mom

          I don’t quite know how to say all that I really desire. I want to start by saying thank you, even though those particular words just aren’t enough to express to you how truly grateful I am to have you as my mom. I want to say thank you for every scraped knee you kissed better; for every moment I looked to you as my perfect example and for the endless times you sacrificed something, even the smallest things, just for me.

The more time goes by, the more challenges I face as a mother myself, the more I recognize how truly amazing you are. You’ve done it all and I admire your strength through it all.

It was recently that I heard and read a story about a queen. Elaine S. Dalton told this story:

“When I was attending Brigham Young University, I learned what it truly means to be a queen. I was given a unique opportunity, along with a small group of other students, to meet the prophet, President David O. McKay. I was told to wear my best dress and to be ready to travel early the next morning to Huntsville, Utah, to the home of the prophet. I will never forget the experience I had. As soon as we entered the home, I felt the spirit which filled that home. We were seated in the prophet’s living room, surrounding him. President McKay had on a white suit, and seated next to him was his wife. He asked for each of us to come forward and tell him about ourselves. As I went forward, he held out his hand and held mine, and as I told him about my life and my family, he looked deeply into my eyes.

After we had finished, he leaned back in his chair and reached for his wife’s hand and said, “Now, young women, I would like you to meet my queen.” There seated next to him was his wife, Emma Ray McKay. Although she did not wear a crown of sparkling diamonds, nor was she seated on a throne, I knew she was a true queen. Her white hair was her crown, and her pure eyes sparkled like jewels. As President and Sister McKay spoke of their family and their life together, their intertwined hands spoke volumes about their love. Joy radiated from their faces. Hers was a beauty that cannot be purchased. It came from years of seeking the best gifts, becoming well educated, seeking knowledge by study and also by faith. It came from years of hard work, of faithfully enduring trials with optimism, trust, strength, and courage. It came from her unwavering devotion and fidelity to her husband, her family, and the Lord.

On that fall day in Huntsville, Utah, I was reminded of my divine identity, and I learned about what I now call “deep beauty”—the kind of beauty that shines from the inside out. It is the kind of beauty that cannot be painted on, surgically created, or purchased. It is the kind of beauty that doesn’t wash off. It is spiritual attractiveness. Deep beauty springs from virtue. It is the beauty of being chaste and morally clean. It is the kind of beauty that you see in the eyes of virtuous women like your mother and grandmother. It is a beauty that is earned through faith, repentance, and honoring covenants.”

This deep beauty is the kind of beauty I see in you, mom. It is also the beauty I saw in grandma and it is the beauty I am striving to obtain. I love your unwavering faith, your constant trust and strength in the Lord as you endure the everyday trials and challenges that come your way. You are a queen to me. I love you.