Stardate 03.31.2026
Last night’s pickleball committee meeting at the Rec Center was productive. Plans are steady for the fundraiser on 4/17, and for the first time in a long while, it feels like we can see the finish line coming into view for September. After three years of effort, setbacks, adjustments, and perseverance, there’s a quiet sense that the pieces are finally fitting together.
But the most meaningful part of the evening wasn’t on the agenda.
It happened after the meeting ended.
My accountability partner, Joni, who faithfully drives a long distance to be part of this group, stayed to talk. Jodi, one of our co-leaders who is pouring her whole heart into this project for the sake of our community and future generations, joined us. The three of us stood there for nearly an hour, sharing pieces of our stories that don’t usually make it into formal meetings.
There was no whiteboard. No notes. No timeline.
Just honesty. Gratitude. And a deep sense that this work has changed us as much as it will bless others.
When we finally walked out to the parking lot, I grabbed a copy of the coloring book from my vehicle and handed it to Jodi. She smiled and asked if I would autograph it.
It was a small moment.
But it didn’t feel small.
Something about that exchange felt like a quiet marker in the journey. A recognition that we are no longer just volunteers working on a project. We are people who have walked through something together. The kind of togetherness that only comes from shared struggle, shared hope, and shared belief in what could be.
I drove home with a calm I haven’t felt in a long time.
Not excitement. Not adrenaline.
Peace.
The kind of peace that comes when your faith, your effort, your relationships, and your purpose all begin pointing in the same direction.
I slept deeply last night.
That may not sound spiritual, but it is.
Sometimes the clearest sign that your life is coming into alignment is not what you feel while awake — it’s the rest you experience when you lay your head down.
Easter is this Sunday. A season of renewal. Of hope. Of life emerging from places that once looked finished.
And here we are, three years into a project that often felt uphill, finally able to see the ridge line ahead.
What I’m learning is this:
The most important work often happens after the meeting is over.
In parking lots. In unplanned conversations. In the quiet moments when people let their guard down and speak from the heart instead of the agenda.
Those are the moments where connection deepens. Where trust grows. Where God does His finest work — not in the spotlight, but in the spaces in between.
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9
Last night felt like a glimpse of that harvest.
Not because the work is done.
But because the people doing the work are now bound together in a way that only perseverance can create.
Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Captain’s Addendum
Spock: “Captain, it appears the most significant progress occurred after official proceedings concluded.”
Bones: “Funny how the real healing never happens in the exam room, isn’t it?”
Sometimes the most meaningful progress in our lives doesn’t show up on schedules or agendas. It happens when we slow down long enough to truly see each other. Last night reminded me that while projects may bring us together, it is shared humanity that keeps us walking forward side by side.
I’m grateful for that reminder today.
