HE RAIN PELTED A monotonous rhythm on my backseat window. I sat with pen poised over my journal. I intended to write about blessings, but instead words of discouragement spilled onto the page.

"Our son graduates from college this morning. We have looked forward to this occasion for five years, and now we are half an hour late for the ceremony. The seats in the outdoor amphitheater will be soaking wet--if we are lucky enough to get one--and all the good parking places will be taken."

Our lives had been thrown into chaos two and a half months earlier when we received the call that my husband's parents were victims of a serious automobile accident. At that moment my husband became decision maker for a mother who lay in a coma and a father too confused to care for himself. A few days before our son's graduation, we moved his father to an assisted-living facility near our home. We were unaware that helping Dad dress was a major task--thus the late start.

On my journal page I began to list the crises that our family had faced in the past few months. The accident occurred near the end of a drawn-out building project. We were scheduled to move into the basement of our new home during the weekend after the accident; the move was delayed by a month. I thought of the problems and delays that had attended the construction of our new home. I added those to my growing list. God had been with us through each crisis, but as I looked over the list I felt overwhelmed. I wondered how we could take much more.

"Jacob was at the end of his strength too," I said to myself as I remembered the Bible story I had read for my morning devotions. As Jacob sat by the brook Jabbok, the more he thought about his problems, the heavier they became. He couldn't go back to work for Uncle Laban. The abuse he suffered there was intolerable. He couldn't go forward without coming head on with his angry brother Esau, who was determined to destroy him for stealing the family inheritance. His only hope was to throw himself on the mercy of an all-powerful God.

But while Jacob cried out to God for help, a new problem arose. Strong arms reached out through the darkness and grabbed him, holding him with a powerful grip. Taken by surprise, Jacob struggled to be free of this new constraint.

Near morning, when his strength was almost gone, he discovered the identity of his assailant. The One he had thought to be his enemy was in reality the One who had come to answer his prayers. Only then did Jacob stop struggling and hold on to his Rescuer for dear life, pleading for the blessings previously promised to him:

"I will not let you go unless you bless me" (Gen. 32:26, NIV).

It was only when Jacob stopped struggling and pleaded for God's promises that he received the blessing he sought. First, God changed him; then He changed his circumstances.

I looked at my daunting list once again and scrawled across the bottom of the page: "I won't let You go until you bless me." Then I closed the book.

As we approached the amphitheater, we saw no signs of a service in progress. People milled about randomly. I spotted one of my son's teachers and asked her for an update.

"They've moved the service to the church sanctuary because of the rain," she said. "It should begin soon."

To our surprise, we found an empty parking place near the side door of the church. We parked quickly and helped Dad out of the car and into the building. But as we attempted to enter the sanctuary, we were met with crowds of people standing in the aisles.

Just then Diana, a woman from our home church, walked out of the sanctuary and asked us, "Do you have seats?"

"No. We just arrived."

''Then follow me."

Diana escorted us to seats in a third-row pew. "These seats should belong to parents of graduates. You can have our seats." Then she hurried back down the aisle and out the door before we could thank her.

In a daze we took off our raincoats and settled ourselves into our seats. Just then the orchestra struck the first bright notes of the processional. Colorfully garbed professors led the march. A sea of black-gowned graduates followed, then flowed into the rows of waiting seats. Our son spotted us and smiled beneath his bobbing tassel.

Tears filled my eyes as I realized what God had done for us that day. Not only had He helped us to be on time for the long-awaited service, but He had supplied us with a prime parking spot and a third-row seat as well. I felt elated and ready to embrace the joy of the occasion.

"Thank you, Father, for reminding us that You are always with us and that You long to bless us, if only we hold on to Your promises."

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Karen Fisher is a freelance writer living in Hermiston, Oregon.