More than anything else, Thanksgiving is a time to change our relationship with the world – to see that life is a gift, even in its messiness, to see the miracles all around us, and to see that each of us has the power to bring light into someone else’s life.

Who are we that we should deserve to see the sunset, that we should deserve to witness the changing of the seasons? Who are we that we should deserve to laugh, to cry, to recover from loss, to enjoy the embrace of community?

When I behold Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place— what is man that You are mindful of him, or the son of man that You care for him? You made him a little lower than the angels; You crowned him with glory and honor. (Psalms 8:4)

How easy it is to ignore the the miracles, to focus on the muck and the mire of life – the traffic delays, the lines at the stores, and the frustrations of everyday life. And how easy it is to go through life without giving thanks.

Thanksgiving is a time to step back, to open our eyes to the miracles. And perhaps, it is a time to reframe those everyday frustrations, to see that they too can be miracles. And they, too, can be moments to give thanks.

The Psalmist asked, “What is man that you should be mindful of him?” But the Chassidic master Netivot Shalom took a different point of view. He taught that from the beginning of time, God wanted to have a dwelling place down below. God wanted to be with us, in our hearts, in our minds, and in our acts of kindness towards each other.

“Every item of creation contains in its depths a spark of supernal light,” wrote one mystic. “That is the blessing. And we can, by ignoring the packaging, the shell, seek and find the light. And when we do, we realize that we have the power to turn darkness, the curse, into blessing and light.” Through kindness, through love, we can turn frustrations into blessings.

The delays, the lines at the supermarket – all of these are annoyances. But they are also the places where life is lived out, the places where relationships can be built.  And ultimately, they are the places where we can build a dwelling place for the Holy One.

We stand in line at a supermarket and we realize that there is an older person behind us who is stooped over, so we let them go first. Or we see a mother, struggling to keep her children amused while she does her weekly shopping, and we stop to compliment her.

All of those moments are part of the muck and the mire of life. But they are also the moments when the Holy One yearns to be present – in our words, in our smiles, in our willingness to pause, to take a moment, to bring blessing to someone’s life.

The world that we will wake up to on Thanksgiving morning will not be perfect. The muck and the mire will still be with us. But we can still give thanks for the loved ones in our lives, for the sunset and the changing of the seasons. And we can bring light and blessing to the lives of others. For all those things, I give thanks.