Home is Where the Heart is

Stardate: 08.22.2026

I'm home.

God arranged the storms perfectly so I could enjoy great weather during the four-hour drive back to my family.

Yesterday, I watched some rather dangerous weather move around me as I made my way home. Today, there isn't a cloud in the sky.

That seems fitting.

In a few minutes, I'll head out for morning cardio tennis with my friends. This may be the last time I see them before I leave for Europe and an international conference with some of the fittest people in the world who happen to be pursuing longevity.

I'll work on the details of that adventure after tennis.

One of my tennis friends is seeking grants to pursue cancer research at the University of Iowa hospitals and clinics. We may have an opportunity to connect some dots today and explore whether my blog sponsor might be able to assist her research with a possible grant.

I love when life does that.

A simple morning of tennis can become an opportunity to help someone pursue something much bigger.

Coming home also reminds me how fortunate I am to have a family willing to support the life I'm building.

I've been away for long stretches this year. My day job assignments have taken me away from home and into communities where I've had the privilege of helping teams get ready for new beginnings. My family has supported those adventures. They've even come to visit me while I've been away.

That kind of support doesn't happen by accident.

I don't take it for granted.

Lucy is sitting in the driveway waiting for me to finish another dream.

I started that dream years ago. Now it has wheels, a name and a place in the driveway. There is still work to do before Lucy is ready for the adventures I have imagined.

The retirement clock is ticking.

Three years and ten months to go.

Lucy will be ready.

So will I.

This morning, though, I'm home.

I'm back in my hometown. Big things are happening here, too. Volunteers are giving their time and energy to make our community one of the best places to live in America.

I see the same thing everywhere I go.

People showing up.

People giving their time.

People helping build something they may never personally own.

Maybe that's part of what home means.

It is the place where people care enough to show up.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever."

Psalm 107:1

Join me here:

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Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, you've been traveling all over the place and now you're calling a driveway full of unfinished projects home."

Spock: "An accurate observation, Doctor. The Captain appears to have discovered that home is a state of connection rather than a fixed coordinate."

Bones: "Don't get carried away, Spock. He's just happy to be home."

I think Bones may have this one.

I'm happy to be home.

I'm grateful for the people who make home possible. I'm grateful for friends who open unexpected doors. I'm grateful for volunteers who care about their community. I'm grateful for a dream sitting in my driveway, reminding me that there is still plenty of life ahead.

Today, my heart is home.

Live long and prosper.

While One Chapter Is Still Being Written

 Stardate: 08.21.2026

I am beginning to pack.

That's usually a pretty good sign that an adventure is coming to an end.

For the past several weeks, this has been my temporary home. I've lived in a hotel, worked with a new team, helped open a new location, met people I didn't know, and collected memories I couldn't have planned.

Today, I begin the journey home.

I still have work to do before I leave. The assignment isn't quite finished.

But the ending is close enough that I can feel it.

That has me thinking about how often life works this way.

We can be fully engaged in one chapter while quietly preparing for the next.

I've experienced that throughout this assignment.

When I arrived, there was a new building to open and a new team to help develop. There were people to meet, questions to answer, problems to solve, and a goal to accomplish.

Now I look around and see people who are more confident than they were when I arrived.

That's one of the most satisfying parts of the work.

Eventually, the people you've been helping don't need quite as much help.

That's the goal.

A good teacher works toward becoming unnecessary.

A good leader builds people who can carry the work forward.

Eventually, you have to let them do it.

That doesn't make leaving easy.

It makes leaving meaningful.

I'm looking forward to going home.

I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, playing cardio tennis, spending time with family, and worshiping with the people who have been part of my life long before this particular adventure began.

I'm also grateful for the temporary life I've lived here.

Temporary doesn't mean unimportant.

A hotel room can become home for a while.

A coworker can become a friend.

A short assignment can become an adventure.

A few weeks can create memories that last much longer.

We don't always get to choose how long a chapter lasts.

We can choose how we live it.

I've tried to live this one fully.

I've worked hard.

I've written.

I've prayed.

I've explored.

I've laughed.

I've learned.

I've tried to leave the people and the place a little better than I found them.

Now it's time to go home.

I know another chapter is waiting.

I don't need to tell you what it is.

Maybe I don't need to know every detail myself.

I've become more comfortable with that.

Faith has taught me that I don't have to see the entire road to take the next step.

Sometimes I simply need to be faithful with the road I'm on.

Today, that road leads home.

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way.” — Psalm 37:23

Join me here:

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Captain's Addendum

“Michael, I believe the Captain has finally begun packing,” Spock said.

“About time,” Bones replied. “I've been wondering when he'd figure out this assignment was temporary.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “He appears to have understood that several weeks ago, Bones.”

“Then maybe somebody should remind him to check out on time.”

I smiled.

There is something fitting about ending this chapter with a suitcase.

It is a simple reminder that we are always carrying something forward.

A lesson.

A friendship.

A memory.

A little more confidence.

A little more faith.

This morning, I am packing those things along with everything else.

The rest can stay behind.

Artisan 179 On the Lake in Pewaukee

Stardate: 08.20.2026

Yesterday, at the end of my shift at my day job, I signed up my last member of the day.

He happened to be a bartender.

We started talking about restaurants in the area, sharing some of our favorites. Before we finished our conversation, he recommended a place I had never visited.

"Have you been to Artisan 179?"

I hadn't.

That was enough for me to make a visit.

After work, I headed to Pewaukee. As soon as I arrived, I was drawn to the view. The restaurant overlooks the lake, and I immediately hoped I could find a seat outside.

The restaurant was full.

I was invited to sit at the bar.

That turned out to be a pretty good seat.

I met Mili, one of the bartenders. She had an accent, so I asked where she was from.

"Argentina."

She handed me a menu, and I decided to take her recommendation: the 16-ounce bone-in Iberico pork chop.

The menu describes Artisan 179 as committed to local, sustainable, and organic practices, with everything prepared in a scratch kitchen and a farm-to-table approach.

While I waited, I met Ted, the managing partner. I told him it was my first visit and that I had come because one of my members recommended the restaurant. I also told him I was a writer and planned to write about my experience because I thought my readers would enjoy it.

He welcomed me warmly.

As the evening continued, the bar became busier. Angela joined Mili behind the bar, and soon I found myself surrounded by people who had become my dining companions for the evening.

There was Tamma. Zeynup was there too, along with Darla, her husband Glenn, and their daughter.

We talked.

We laughed.

At one point, we even posed for some pictures that would become part of today's review.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I asked Mili a question that comes naturally to me.

"What is your secret to success?"

Her answer was immediate.

"Teamwork."

That answer stayed with me.

I spend much of my working life building teams at my day job. I've learned to pay attention to the little things that reveal whether a team is working well. People communicate. They help each other. They handle pressure together. They make room for someone who is new.

I saw those things happening around me last night.

The food arrived, and Mili's recommendation was excellent. The Iberico pork chop was everything I hoped it would be.

Then Ted surprised me with dessert.

The dessert was a sachet, a box made out of chocolate with all kinds of sweet delights inside.

I offered to share it with my new friends.

They politely declined.

So I enjoyed it myself.

Before I left, I promised Ted that I would have the story written today.

That promise brought me back to the experience this morning.

A member I had met only minutes earlier sent me somewhere I had never been.

Mili welcomed me at the bar.

Ted made me feel at home.

Angela joined the team.

A group of people I had never met became my dinner companions.

And somewhere in the middle of the evening, one word connected the restaurant experience to something I have spent years learning myself.

Teamwork.

It matters wherever people gather to do something together.

Last night, I got to see it from the other side of the bar.

And I got a pretty memorable pork chop and dessert along the way.

Scripture says:

"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour."
— Ecclesiastes 4:9

I'm grateful for the member who made the recommendation.

I'm grateful for Mili, Angela, Ted, and the people who shared the bar with me.

I'm grateful for an unexpected evening that turned into a story worth telling.

Sometimes a good recommendation takes you somewhere you didn't know you needed to go.

Join me here:

Substack — Michael Mulligan

Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, you realize you went to a restaurant to write a review and ended up asking the bartender about teamwork."

Spock: "Doctor, Michael has a pattern."

Bones: "Of course he does. Give him a team and he'll start asking about their goals before dessert."

That made me smile.

They may have a point.

I've spent enough years working with people to recognize the feeling of a team that works well together.

Last night, I felt it.

And I got a pretty memorable dessert, too.

I'm grateful for the people who keep teaching me, sometimes without knowing they are doing it.

One percent better.

One good conversation at a time.

Live long and prosper.

Make the Reservation

 Stardate: 08.19.2026

Yesterday morning, I made a reservation for dinner.

The weather forecast wasn't encouraging. Storms were expected, and there was some question about whether our date night would happen as planned.

I made the reservation anyway.

This restaurant is popular, especially on Tuesday nights when they feature steak and lobster. I knew waiting until the last minute could leave us without a table.

By evening, the storm had arrived.

Fortunately, we were already inside.

The warnings came over the restaurant's PA system while we sat at our table overlooking the lake. Outside, the weather was doing its thing. Inside, we were having dinner.

We both ordered the steak and lobster.

It was out of this world.

We've had some wonderful experiences during my time away from home. This was our best dining experience so far.

There was something special about sitting there together while the storm moved through.

Today, my wife heads home.

I'll finish the assignment on my own and return to my family on Friday.

The next few days will bring their own questions. I don't know exactly what the schedule will look like after I get home. There is a possibility I could leave Monday morning for the next assignment. That decision is still being worked out.

I've become comfortable with some uncertainty.

Yesterday was a good reminder.

I made a reservation without knowing what the weather would bring.

The storm came.

We had dinner anyway.

Maybe that is one of the small lessons life keeps offering us.

We can spend a lot of time waiting for the conditions to be perfect before making a decision. Sometimes the reservation simply needs to be made.

Then we show up.

I think there is something faithful about that.

Scripture says:

"Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established."
— Proverbs 16:3

I don't know what the weather will bring tomorrow.

I know where I am today.

That is enough.

Join me here:

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Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, I have to admit. Making a reservation during a storm warning sounds a little optimistic."

Spock: "Actually, Doctor, the reservation was made before the storm. The Captain demonstrated reasonable foresight."

Bones: "Well, Spock, I suppose that settles it. Steak and lobster under a storm watch. Somehow Michael always finds a way."

Maybe that's the trick.

We don't get to choose the weather.

We can choose whether to make the reservation.

And sometimes the best memories are waiting for us on the other side of that decision.

I'm grateful for last night.

I'm grateful for the time together.

And I'm grateful for whatever comes next.

Live long and prosper.

The People We Meet Along the Way

 Stardate: 08.18.2026

I came to Oconomowoc with a job to do.

I was part of a team preparing a new store for its grand opening. There were goals to reach, problems to solve, details to polish, and a team to support.

I knew the assignment would eventually end.

I didn't know how many people would become part of my story along the way.

That's one of the gifts of traveling away from home. We enter a place knowing very few people. Then the days begin to fill with conversations, shared work, laughter, challenges, and small moments that weren't on the schedule.

Somewhere along the way, people become friends.

Sometimes they become family.

One of those relationships began with a concerned neighbor.

Peter came to me with concerns about the new store. I listened. As we talked, I discovered his concerns were legitimate. We addressed them, and he was satisfied with the solutions.

Then Peter stopped by during the ribbon cutting.

While we were outside, I had the opportunity to share part of his family's story with him and others. His wife's family had arrived here generations ago aboard a ship named the Lyon.

There was another part of their family story that touched me deeply.

When Peter was diagnosed with lymphoma, his granddaughter, Hannah, prayed for his healing.

Hannah is seven years old now.

I asked Peter to carry a prayer from me to Hannah.

I asked her to pray for the community of Oconomowoc. My prayer was that the new store would be a blessing to the people who live here and that we would serve the needs of the community well.

That moment will stay with me.

So will the people I have worked beside these past few weeks.

The teammates who showed up each day.

The conversations between tasks.

The people who helped me when I needed help.

The people I was able to help.

The laughter that made long days easier.

The shared purpose that brought us together.

I have about 28 hours remaining on this assignment.

The work now is final polishing with the team and making sure they are ready to carry things forward. There will also be goodbyes.

Some of these people will become lifetime family.

I already know I will return to Oconomowoc with my family someday. When I do, I'll see more than a building where we opened a new store.

I'll remember the people.

I think that is one of the beautiful things about the journeys God gives us.

We often begin with a destination in mind.

Then people appear along the way.

They become part of our lives through circumstances we never planned. A conversation. A shared assignment. A concern brought to our attention. A story about a little girl named Hannah who prayed for her grandfather.

We keep walking.

And somehow, the journey becomes richer because they were there.

"Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing."
— 1 Thessalonians 5:11

I have been encouraged by the people I've met here.

I hope I've encouraged a few of them, too.

Perhaps that's enough.

We don't always know what our presence means to another person. We may never know which conversation mattered or which small act of kindness someone carried home with them.

We can still choose to show up.

We can still listen.

We can still serve.

We can still be open to the people God places along our path.

Join me here:

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Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, you're getting sentimental again."

Spock: "The evidence suggests he has developed emotional attachments to his colleagues."

Bones: "Spock, they're called friends."

Spock: "I am aware of the distinction, Doctor."

There are people I met in Oconomowoc who I expect will remain part of my life long after this assignment is finished.

That wasn't part of the plan I carried with me when I arrived.

I'm grateful it happened.

Live long and prosper.

— Michael

The Joy of Expanding

 Stardate: 08.17.2026

I find myself learning something new almost every day.

Sometimes the lesson is small. I've been picking up a word or two in Spanish. I've learned a different way to approach a difficult situation. I've watched someone on a new team handle a problem and thought, I hadn't considered that.

I've been on assignment for several weeks now, working with people I didn't know when I arrived.

That has put me outside my comfort zone.

I've noticed something during these weeks.

I learn faster when I'm there.

There is a certain alertness that comes with unfamiliar surroundings. I pay closer attention. I ask more questions. I watch how people respond. I adjust.

Two intense days have just passed. I slept well last night, and this morning I can feel the difference. I have five days remaining before I head home for four days of rest.

Then I begin again.

A new assignment. A new team. Another opportunity to learn.

I'm beginning to appreciate these cycles.

There is another lesson appearing alongside all of this.

For a long time, I have returned to the Serenity Prayer when change became difficult for me. I needed the serenity to accept what I couldn't change, the courage to change what I could, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The words have stayed the same.

My understanding of them has changed.

I'm finding myself in situations where I can influence change from a position I once believed was outside my control.

That has been a wonderful discovery.

I think about the people I've been training during this assignment. When I arrived, I was increasing. I was learning the environment and building relationships.

Now I'm watching them increase.

That is a good feeling.

Soon I will leave, and they will continue what we started.

Then I'll travel home and spend four days with my wife before heading out again.

These travels have given us glimpses of another part of our future, too. Retirement is four years away. Every assignment gives us another little preview of what life might look like when work no longer determines where we need to be.

We're learning along the way.

We're paying attention to what we enjoy. We're discovering what gives us energy. We're seeing places and having experiences we might never have encountered if we stayed entirely within familiar routines.

I can make adjustments now.

That may be one of the greatest gifts of having four years to prepare.

I don't have to wait until retirement to learn how I want to live.

I can learn today.

I can try something new today.

I can step into an unfamiliar situation and see what it teaches me.

Paul wrote:

"Be transformed by the renewing of your mind."

— Romans 12:2

That verse has taken on new meaning for me.

Renewal can happen in very ordinary places.

It can happen in a conversation.

It can happen on a new team.

It can happen when a difficult situation doesn't unfold the way I expected.

It can happen when I discover that I have more influence than I thought I had.

I'm beginning to see continuous learning as part of the journey itself.

Every day gives us something to notice.

Every person can teach us something.

Every unfamiliar situation gives us another opportunity to grow.

And sometimes, when we pay attention, we discover that the boundaries we thought were fixed have moved.

That is where I find myself today.

Still learning.

Still growing.

Still discovering what's possible.

And grateful for the opportunity.

Join me here:

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Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, you're learning Spanish now? I suppose we'll have to add that to the Captain's growing list of experiments."

Spock: "Doctor, continuous learning appears to be producing measurable expansion. I see no logical reason to discourage it."

Bones: "Just make sure he remembers to rest between missions."

Spock and Bones may have a point.

Five days from now I'll be home for four days. Then I'll head out again and begin building another team.

For now, I'm grateful for this season and for the lessons it continues to reveal.

One day at a time. One percent better.

Captain’s Handbook

Stardate: 08.16.2026

Three years ago, I needed a template to help me tell a story.

Today, I sometimes forget the template is there.

That may be one of the clearest signs that something has changed.

I have been writing every day for 17 years. Somewhere along the way, that daily practice turned into more than 6,200 blog stories and five self-published books.

That's a lot of repetition.

Every morning, I sit down and try to turn something that happened into something worth sharing. Some days the story is obvious. Other days I have to search for it.

That repetition has built some writing muscle.

When I began working with Alberta three years ago, I already had plenty of experience showing up at the keyboard. What I needed was a better way to shape the experiences I was collecting.

So we developed a framework.

Over time, the framework became more detailed. We learned what worked. We learned what didn't. We learned which phrases sounded like me and which ones didn't. We learned how much explanation a story needed and when an observation could simply stand on its own.

Eventually, the framework became Version 8.

Locked.

It might sound strange to describe a writing template that way. For me, it represents years of practice.

Something interesting happened along the way.

I stopped needing to think about every rule.

I began to recognize the story.

A conversation could become a story.

A table at a restaurant could become a story.

A storm could become a story.

A commercial during a movie could become a story.

The framework had become part of the way I looked at the world.

That reminds me of something I recently learned from F. Matthias Alexander. His work centered on the way habits shape us, often without our conscious awareness. Repetition creates patterns. With enough practice, those patterns become familiar.

Writing has worked that way for me.

The template gave me structure. Seventeen years of showing up gave me repetition. Three years of refining the craft gave me a better sense of what belongs on the page.

And somewhere along the way, I started noticing that the practice wasn't staying on the page.

The same habit of paying attention shows up during prayer and meditation.

It shows up when I'm working with people.

It shows up in my marriage.

It shows up when I'm traveling and notice something I might have walked past years ago.

Even yesterday, during a difficult workday, I found myself paying attention to what was happening without letting the pressure take over. There were challenges. We were short on people. Everyone was being pushed.

I stayed relaxed.

Then I punched out on time, met my wife in the hotel parking lot, and we went to worship together. We had one of our best dinners of this assignment afterward.

Those moments probably wouldn't have made much impression on me years ago.

Now I notice them.

Maybe that's what all those repetitions have been doing.

The writing has trained me to look.

A person who practices gratitude begins to notice things worth being grateful for.

A person who practices kindness begins to notice opportunities to be kind.

A person who practices prayer begins to notice God in places that might once have gone unnoticed.

The practice shapes the practitioner.

I don't think that means the framework is finished.

Quite the opposite.

I still have the template.

I still have the guardrails.

I still have the mission.

But after 17 years of writing every day, more than 6,200 stories, five books, and three years of refining this particular framework, I find myself trusting my instincts a little more.

The handbook is still on the desk.

I just don't have to look at it every time.

Maybe that's one of the gifts of practicing something for a long time.

Eventually, some of what you practiced begins to travel with you.

Join me here:

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Scripture

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord.” — Colossians 3:23

Captain's Addendum

Spock: “Michael, it appears the Captain has been studying his handbook for three years.”

Bones: “Three years? I thought he was writing a blog.”

Spock: “Perhaps those activities are no longer separate.”

Bones: “Now you're getting philosophical, Spock.”

I think Bones may have a point.

The stories have changed because I have changed. The framework helped me get here, but the real work happened through thousands of small moments of paying attention, writing, revising, and trying again.

The same thing may be happening in other parts of my life.

The practice keeps following me.

And tomorrow morning, I'll probably sit down and do it again.

May you live long and prosper.