When It Rains, It Pours

There’s a phrase we’ve all heard:

when it rains, it pours.

Usually we say it when everything feels like it’s going wrong at once. A flat tire, a sick child, a missed deadline — and then something else piles on. But lately, that phrase has taken on a new meaning for me. Not because everything fell apart… but because I almost let the forecast steal my joy.

A few weeks ago, Penny and I had a trip planned to Disneyland. It was her very first time. The kind of milestone you tuck into your heart years in advance. I had imagined sunshine warming Main Street, cotton candy skies at sunset, her little face lit up in front of the castle.

And then the weather app shifted.

A cold front was sweeping into California. Every single day we were supposed to be there showed rain. Not the gentle kind either — steady rain, cold temperatures, wind. The closer we got to our travel day, the darker those little cloud icons seemed to loom over me.

I became obsessed.

I checked the weather first thing in the morning and last thing before bed. I refreshed it midday. I compared apps. I googled long-range forecasts. I joined forums. I tried to decipher radar maps like I had a degree in meteorology. I told myself I was just being “prepared.”

But the truth? I was fretting.

I started planning for every possible scenario — ponchos, extra socks, backup outfits, waterproof bags. I researched which rides would close in rain. I mapped out indoor attractions. What began as practical preparation slowly turned into something heavier. The weather overshadowed the trip itself. Instead of dreaming about rides and treats and laughter, I was rehearsing disappointment.

Scripture tells us again and again not to worry about tomorrow. That tomorrow will worry about itself. That we are not in control. And yet, for some reason, we fixate most on the very things we cannot control.

One verse in particular kept coming to mind afterward:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” — Philippians 4:6

God doesn’t ask us to carry forecasts. He asks us to bring our worries to Him.

The days leading up to the trip were consumed by my weather anxiety. Even as I packed Penny’s little outfits, I felt this low hum of frustration: Why now? Why her first trip?

When we arrived in California, everyone was talking about “the storm.” The hotel staff mentioned it. Strangers in the elevator mentioned it. It was as if the whole state had been bracing for impact.

And the rain did come.

Joanna Gott

Flash flooding. Vertical sheets of rain. Cold temperatures that seeped through jackets. It felt dramatic and relentless. We found ways to have fun — cozy dinners, splashing in puddles, laughing at our soaked shoes — but in the back of my mind was the real test: our Disney day.

The forecast said no rain.

When we woke up that morning, there was even a stretch of blue sky. I felt cautiously hopeful. Maybe the storm had moved on. Maybe the app had been right.

But as we made the walk toward Disneyland, tiny sprinkles began to fall.

Immediately, frustration rose up in me.

The weather app said no rain. Why was this happening? Would this ruin Penny’s Disney experience? Would she remember her first trip as cold and soggy?

I didn’t want her to see my disappointment. So I smiled and said things like, “It’s only a sprinkle,” and “It will stop soon.” But inside, I was wrestling with unmet expectations. I had pictured clear skies and warmth. I had built a mental version of perfection.

And it wasn’t unfolding the way I had planned.

I realized in those moments that I was missing what was happening right in front of me. My daughter — my sweet Penny — was not concerned with radar maps or hourly forecasts. She wasn’t calculating precipitation percentages.

She was delighted.

Joanna and Penny

She laughed at the raindrops. She marveled at every sweet treat. She gripped my hand in line for rides. She soaked in every hug from her cousins. She wasn’t scanning the sky — she was living in the moment God had given her.

There was such freedom in the way she experienced that day.

And it gently convicted me.

How often do I let expectations rob me of presence? How often do I allow “what if” to overshadow “what is”? God doesn’t call us to perfect conditions. He calls us to faithful hearts.

At some point that morning, standing in a light drizzle with damp hair and a slightly soggy jacket, I made a quiet decision: I was done worrying about the weather. If it poured, we would laugh. If it cleared, we would celebrate. But I was not going to lose another minute to something I couldn’t control.

Over our three days at Disney, we experienced everything. Warm sunshine. Crisp air. Sudden downpours. Even thunder in the distance. And you know what? The magic was still there.

Sometimes the rain cleared crowds and shortened lines. Sometimes it gave us an excuse to huddle close. Sometimes it forced us to slow down and savor.

By our last day, when a random cloud drifted overhead and began to sprinkle again, something in me had shifted. Instead of grumbling, we paused.

And then we saw it — a rainbow stretching across the sky.

Joanna Gott

It felt like such a tender gift. As if God Himself was reminding me: See? Even the rain has beauty. Even the storm can carry promise.

I couldn’t help but think about how much emotional energy I had spent worrying about weather that I could never change. How many hours I had lost refreshing an app instead of resting in trust. How easily “when it rains, it pours” had turned into a mindset of dread instead of an opportunity for dependence.

The rain did pour on this trip.

But so did grace.

So did laughter.

So did joy.

So did the sweetness of watching my daughter experience wonder for the first time.

God doesn’t promise clear skies. He promises His presence. And sometimes the very thing we fear will ruin the story becomes the backdrop that makes it even more beautiful.

Joanna Gott

I’m still learning this. Still catching myself when I drift into future-tripping and fretful planning. But I want to live more like Penny — eyes up, heart open, fully present.

Because when it rains, yes… sometimes it pours. But sometimes it pours blessings we never would have seen if the sky had stayed perfectly clear.