During the festival, I spent time with several single people. I was walking with one of them to a lecture and mentioned that I was blogging. He said that some friends of his were bloggers, as well. I asked if they had a particular topic that they focused on, or if they just wrote about life.He said that one of them was married, and she and her husband were trying to have a baby. Her blog, he said, chronicled that difficult journey. Then he turned to me. “You have kids?””Yes, I have four.””Four kids?”I nodded and mumbled an affirmative sound. “Mmhm. Four.”We continued walking, and after a pause, he said. “You’re blessed, you know.”I nodded.After a few more steps, slowing our pace, he said, “You’re really blessed, you know that?”I nodded again. “Sure. I know that.”My response, evidently, wasn’t convincing. Perhaps I didn’t sound like I believed it strongly enough in that moment. He actually stopped, stood in front of me, and looked straight into my eyes. “Listen to me, Ann…you’ve got to realize…You. Are. Blessed. You are! You’re blessed!”This time, I felt almost a power of blessing surge from one believer to another. Maybe sometimes we need someone to shake us up a bit, to help us realize all that we have, all the good in our lives, the things we might be taking for granted. “I am!” I responded with renewed energy. “I’m blessed!”He seemed satisfied. This time, he was the one who merely nodded. “Good,” he said. “Good. Well, it was great seeing you. Have a great time tonight!”I was still feeling the depth of his message. I waved as he left to meet up with his friends, and I headed over to sit with someone else. As I passed through the doors of the auditorium, I was still smiling.I. Am. Blessed.The way I read the moment, he was referring in particular to my children in light of his friend who was struggling to conceive. But he didn’t say that, specifically; that’s where I went with it.I have four children, and I was urged to grasp at that very moment the divine blessing that they are. I thought of each one of my four, one after another–not that I hadn’t been thinking of them throughout the festival, but this time I thought of each with a swelling gratitude. And The Belgian Wonder. I assume that my friend, being single, meant him, too. And I thought of all the things The Belgian Wonder was doing back home so that I could be at this event. His support. Faithfulness. Love.Then I thought, you know, there are so many things. I’m blessed in so many ways. I could make the list, the One Thousand Gifts and more.I. Am. Blessed.And then I thought how each one of us needs someone to take hold of our arm, look us in the eye, and get through to us, deep into our hearts.You. Are. Blessed.You are.You’re blessed.When he said that to me, his urgent message was full of love, almost pastoral in tone. As he moved on, I felt as if I’d received a blessing.Can we minister to each other that way? Can we bless each other? Can I get through to you, as he did to me, and pass it on?I don’t know. I don’t know how a few words tapped onto a screen could somehow carry that insistence or travel deep into your heart and soul, but I want you to know that you’re blessed.Do you know that?You’ve got to realize–you are!You. Are. Blessed.