Several years ago I was given the book, "Who Moved My Cheese?" by Spencer Johnson. It is a clever little book about two mice and two humans who were accustomed to going to the same place each day to find food. This went on day after day, week after week and month after month. They learned to rely and depend upon the cheese, and the set location.

The day came when they arrived to eat their cheese and it wasn't there. They returned the next day; again it wasn't there. It only took a minute for the mice to realize they needed to look elsewhere. However the little humans, Hem and Haw, continued to return, expecting the cheese to reappear. After several days they began to worry.

Throughout the story, Haw decides to go looking for cheese elsewhere. Hem refuses to search for new cheese, feeling entitled, victimized and arrogant. Haw eventually finds cheese and even returns to tell Hem, who is weak and despondent. Hem continues to stay where he is, falsely convinced that the cheese will or should reappear.

The point of the story is that in life we inevitably will have our cheese moved, perhaps through a divorce, or the loss of a spouse, a job or any other hopes and dreams. There are those of us who struggle to move on, we are mentally, emotionally, spiritually or physically stuck, we refuse to or can't even fathom the idea of taking the initiative to begin searching for cheese elsewhere. We may feel entitled, victimized or arrogant. For years we have found cheese at the exact same place; our mind can't even wrap itself around the fact that it is no longer there, so we refuse to budge.

Others are quicker to move on, to either create their own cheese or find cheese elsewhere.

I have met many people in my life who have had their cheese moved. One such person was a dear friend; we'll call her Shelly.

Shelly was a young mother with a brand-new baby. A month after she gave birth, her husband, Mark, who was in an accelerated medical program at the university, received a serious head injury from falling shelves at a local convenient store. Instantly, she lost the husband and family life she had always known; her cheese was moved.

He was now like a child. He could not tell you his name or age, nor did he feel a connection to his wife or child. He roamed aimlessly through stores, at home or wherever he was. Shelly was advised to place him in a home, suggesting that she would need to move on with her life as he never would be fully functioning again. She refused, stating that she loved him and would be there for him every day of his life.

It was at this time our family met Shelly, Mark and their two children; through the miracle of modern medical technology they were able to have another child. We instantly fell in love with Mark for his funny and innocent ways, and we honored Shelly for her selflessness, devotion and an amazingly happy disposition.

Each day Shelly would teach Mark how to vacuum, unload the dishwasher, brush his teeth, comb his hair or anything else she could think of. Each day was like starting over, as he was not able to retain any of it. Faithfully Shelly continued. She took him to amusement parks, aquariums, stores, driving or any place she could think of that might stir his memory or help him to learn. For the longest time, she continually searched for "the cheese," laughing and having fun along the way.

Shelly continued to move forward. It was during this time that she took the missionary lessons, and joined the LDS Church. She drove her family to church each Sunday, she made friends for her family who fell in love with them as we did. She could never leave Mark, so going out with friends was out of the question. She was 100 percent devoted to her husband and her family.

Obviously Shelly's cheese was moved the moment Mark had the accident. Not for a minute did she whine or complain because of what she once had or depended upon. Nor did she feel victimized or entitled. She immediately started looking for or creating her own cheese.

Several years later, and with nothing less than a miracle and the love from their friends, Mark began to retain what he was learning. Information began to fit together. He became capable and competent. He was able to understand the Mormon missionary lessons and join the church. A year later, my dad was able to seal them in the temple.

Since that time, Shelly and Mark have had a third child. Mark enrolled in a prestigious university (they never informed the university of his injury as they did not want any sympathy); he graduated and has been very successful. He has started a couple of businesses of his own and is a walking encyclopedia. While you and I forget half the things we read or hear, he remembers almost everything!

This story is not only a story of miracles, but also of a young mother who the moment she noticed that her world had changed, or her cheese had been moved, she put on her running shoes and started looking for cheese elsewhere. In this case, we have a miraculous ending, but even it if wasn't Shelly's actions would have been the same. It wasn't even in her realm of thinking to sit and stew and feel entitled or begrudging. She was determined to find new cheese, and she did.

Each of us will have our cheese moved at one time or another. People, relationships, circumstances, health or things that we once thought were constants may be gone from our lives in an instant. If we refuse to move forward, but insist on returning to the same place that we have always gone, we can die spiritually, mentally and emotionally.

I have seen both extremes. Perhaps none has touched me like Shelly's. I will be forever grateful for her example of faith, optimism, perseverance and love. To all the Shellys in the world, whose lives have been turned upside-down for one reason or another, '"thank you" for your example of how to "find the cheese."