It Couldn't Be Done.

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,

     But, he with a chuckle replied

That "maybe it couldn’t," but he would be one

     Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin

     On his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

     That couldn’t be done, and he did it.



Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you’ll never do that;

     At least no one has done it";

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,

     And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,

     Without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

     That couldn’t be done, and he did it.



There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,

     There are thousands to prophesy failure;

There are thousands to point out to you one by one,

     The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle it in with a bit of a grin,

     Just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start to sing as you tackle the thing

     That "couldn’t be done," and you’ll do it.

This has been my life this past year. It couldn’t be done, I have told myself. It couldn’t be done. There’s no way I can survive now, starting a first year teacher job and being separated from the man I loved. 

It couldn’t be done by me alone. 

So God did it. 

There was no way I could begin the papers for a divorce, go through with the divorce, and pay for it. It couldn’t be done. It couldn’t be done, not in a billion years could I ever bring myself to divorce him, to let him go, to give up what I loved. It couldn’t be done. 

So God gave me the strength and I did it. The divorce started to take speed during the exact time I was suffering from a kidney infection, had to go to the hospital and miss 2 weeks of school. 

It couldn’t be done, to write him a letter and tell him what I was choosing to do. I didn’t have the strength in my body or heart. It just couldn’t be done. 

So God did it with me. 

And looking back on all the moments and prayers in which I told my Heavenly Father “this cannot be done,” I see that they couldn’t be done because I couldn’t do them. He did them. He moved my hands when I wrote that letter. He drove my car when I left my husband. He carried the boxes of belongings that once meant so much to me, but had to be thrown away. He erased the photos and wedding pictures that I used to love... He sent the texts, answered the phone, and lifted my spirit heavenward because he knew that’s where I would be safe, that’s where I would find love. 

It couldn’t be done. 

So God did it.

I read a talk the other day from Elder Bednar who expounded on Elder Maxwell’s statement, “Not shrinking is better than surviving.” As I talked about it with my sister, I realized a life changing truth : the difference between “not shrinking” and “surviving” is that when we choose to not shrink from our trials, we put our faith in Christ and in the God who loves us; we go through our trials, surrendering our will to God’s. In contrast, when we choose to survive, we trust in our own strength and abilities which, however reliable they may be, are nevertheless limited in scope and longevity. 

This I learned and keep learning as now I face some of the aftershocks of what I have been through. 

My guess is that everyone reading this has felt like they live in survival mode from time to time, had felt like they were going to lose their grip on the lifeline they needed. I know everyone has or will feel like the impossible task is staring them in the face. 

And.

I know that with God, you can do it.