We drove right by it. Something about the name resulted in a quick U-turn and our parking beside the sign.

Dismal Nitch.

Depressing to say the least.

Overcast clouds, cool temps, and gusty winds didn’t help the mood.

In 1805, Lewis and Clark with their crew had spent 18 months traversing the wide plains and towering mountains and rushing rivers. They were tired. Exhausted. But the end was almost in sight. Just around the bend lay the mouth of the Columbia River and the big, wide open Pacific Ocean.

Then it happened. The storm. High winds. Waves unnavigable. The men, not accustomed to the environment, huddled together on the rocky shore to try to protect from the torrential rain and high waves. Their clothing of leather half-rotten. Baggage soggy. Provisions depleted. Miserable.

Clark referred to the place where they hunkered as “this dismal nitch.”

There they waited. And waited. And waited.

If you’ve ever been almost there. . . and then been stopped dead in your tracks, you’ll understand their anguish.

I’ve been in a season of waiting. I keep thinking I see a glimpse of the end and then the waves pick up, the wind blows me over and I’m huddled down. Wondering. . . how much longer?

But in the wait, this I know. God is there. We aren’t huddled alone. And if we embrace this waiting, our characters are shaped in ways they wouldn’t be otherwise. I’ve found that in the waiting, “junk” surfaces. I have a choice. Will I deal with this junk or will I stuff it back down? Waiting gives me the opportunity to learn, to examine my heart, to push back against wrong ways of thinking, to do all the hard work. It provides space.

In Tricia Lott Williford’s new book, Just. You. Wait.: Patience, Contentment, and Hope for the Everyday, she points out “I think we can all agree that so much of life isn’t about what happens to you- it’s about how you think about it.”

It’s so easy to focus on the waiting. On why God isn’t answering. On why we are in the place we are in. On why things have turned out the way they have. It is harder, yet so much more productive, to focus on what we are learning during this time. To open our eyes to the way that God is there and to rest in that alone.

I’m wondering what those men pinned down on the rocky coast for 6 days were thinking. We have some journal entries that give us a clue: Clark writes “It would be distressing to a feeling person to see our situation. . . “

Yet, they hung on and waited. Who knew that when they thought they were almost there, the most dangerous and discouraging event on this journey would happen to them? Finally, the winds died down and the river calmed and the rain stopped. They climbed into their canoes and paddled around the bend to the landing spot. Their journey was finished.

I wonder what they learned from those six days of waiting? I wonder what those days created in their hearts? Bitterness? Despair? Or a sense of peace in the midst of the chaos? Perseverance? A knowledge that no matter how bad it became, there is always hope?

In the midst of our waiting. . . what will we learn?

PS. I highly recommend reading Tricia Lott Williford’s book, Just. You. Wait. Patience, Contentment and Hope for the Everyday. You can order her book here.