It was a watershed moment in his spiritual life, he later said, remembering his gratitude and prayers of thanksgiving to God for preserving his sister's life. She later married and reared six children.

An admittedly strong-willed child, Elder Maxwell struggled in his early teens to maintain an interest in church activity and "did not connect with Scouting." His parents had tutored him in the faith at home, in word and deed, and maintained their belief in his understanding of gospel principles, despite the fact that he was "a little feisty and independent."

"While my parents winced, they respected my agency. I knew somewhat how they felt, but they backed off a little bit in this almost sacred zone where our agency touches parental counsel." They would simply remind him, "you know how we feel," a tactic that bore rich fruit. As a result, he found himself "respecting and loving them all the more."

Respect for agency

It's a trait he exemplified well with his own children, who told the Deseret Morning News on Thursday that he never pressured them to toe the line for fear of how his own reputation or the family name would be affected. He extended the same courtesy to his grandchildren, they said, noting he "always had respect for their agency."

He learned early to hold the line on principle. Once he was with a group of friends who wanted to buy some beer, and he asked them to take him home. Rather than castigating them, his wife, Colleen, recalled he simply went home and cried — a reflection of the personal pain that friends and former students learned he felt for those who struggled spiritually or otherwise.

After graduating from Granite High School in 1944, he was not yet 18 but "anxious to be involved" in World War II. Without any sense of entitlement, he said he felt "it was my duty. I wanted to go," so he enlisted and was assigned to the infantry, where he would fight on the front lines in the Battle of Okinawa.

At the height of his battle experience, a mortar shell exploded five feet from his foxhole, and he knew the enemy had located his position and it would only be a matter of minutes until he was hit. He knelt for the deepest prayer of his life, "one of those selfish, honest prayers" for protection despite overwhelming odds to the contrary. He promised to spend the balance of his life serving God.

The prayer was answered, he later recounted. No more shells came near him that night; when shelling resumed the following night, the ammunition failed to explode. It was another life-altering moment whose implications would come into play again and again as he considered career moves and sought to keep his promise.

Anxious to serve