We spill from the van, stepping over French fries, forgotten art, and wet clothes. The baby is covered in cheese powder and snot. An empty Starbucks cup rolls down the driveway.

The grocery trip was a mix. Everything becomes a mix when you have five kids. Vacation? Scenic but not necessarily restful. Nighttime sleep? Rarely full. Getting the dishes done? That would deserve a party.

I ease my tired body down to the rough concrete of our driveway. There’s a chair nearby, but it’s easier to sit among the children than above them. I savor the spring afternoon. Cool and overcast, the perfect temperature, no bugs, no sweat. No arguing.

A chalk world surrounds me: A city beneath a rainbow. A mushroom-scape of fairies and clouds. The vivid pink and purple of my preschooler’s impressionistic unicorn land. I add some shapes and shading, but mostly, I watch.

I’m aware of myself in this moment. Aware of the chill from the hard driveway. Aware of my dirty glasses. Aware of a booger lodged in my nose and the throbbing papercut on my left hand.

I’m aware that I’m aware, and I feel good. Good in my body. Good in my mind.

Being Rachael is hard. It’s a rare moment when such joy and stillness overlap. It’s a rare moment that I inhale peace.

While I absolutely love my life, it’s true that motherhood, wifehood, and personhood have forced a confrontation. I see my limits. I hate having limits. But when you have five children, depression, a hormone allergy, and all the ordinary foibles of life . . .

Is it possible limitations can reveal beauty?

Efficiency isn’t my friend anymore. It served me well for decades. It’s how I thrived in schooling and soared into management. Efficiency can be lovely and needful—but I long for something else these days. I long to linger and meander and wander. I long for kindness and curiosity. I long for gratitude to sink in deeply.

I long to feel the weight of goodness.

A decade of life and motherhood is helping me learn to feel. To hold weariness and joy. Aches and fullness. Rupture and repair. I’m the most tired I’ve ever been and the most fully alive.

Because seven mouths is a lot. Seventy fingers. Fourteen hands. Seven beautiful souls.

Because personhood is a lot—its limits, aches, and wonder.

Because love and kindness feel risky, but I want more of them. More of them coming in. More of them going out.

I inhale slowly, breathing in the moment on the driveway. The moment of feeling that goodness inside and out. The moment of quiet. My heart dares to believe the Holy Spirit at work, the nearness of Jesus, and the love of the Father.

In a different spot — when the baby wakes crying, the chalk is hoarded, or dinnertime feels overwhelming — please let this gratitude courageously defend a spot in my heart.

Meet Rachael Morales

Where to find her . . .

• Substack
• Instagram

Begin Within is a series to inspire a year-round lifestyle of gratitude that will impact not only your own life, but the lives of your neighbors as well. Gratitude is a theme we talk about often around here because it ties so closely into other missional living rhythms. Practicing gratitude reminds to keep our hearts soft and expectant and our eyes open. Therefore, the more we embrace gratitude, the easier it becomes to truly see our neighbors and where we can join what God is already doing in our neighborhoods.

If you would like to contribute to Begin Within, you can find the submission guidelines here.

Creating Ripples

If you would like to cultivate rhythms in addition to gratitude that will empower you live on mission in your neighborhood, check out Cultivating a Missional Life: A 30-Day Devotional to Gently Help You Open Your Heart, Home, and Life to Your Neighbors. This small book will help you make a big impact in your neighborhood as you learn to let missional living flow from the inside out. Get the 30-day missional living challenge free when you purchase the book.