First Bulk Order Arrives Today

Stardate 04.07.2026

Sometimes the best solutions don’t come from us at all. They come through us — carried by other people’s hearts.

What began for me as a personal pursuit of better health, stronger finances, and clearer purpose has now become three books. Different stories. One mission: help others navigate hard seasons with hope.

Lately, I’d been wrestling with a stubborn case of writer’s block. Some of it came from within. Some of it came from circumstances around me. The breakthrough didn’t arrive as a lightning bolt of inspiration. It came in the form of friends, family… and thirty elementary students who simply wanted to bless children they’ve never met.

Those students held a bake sale because they wanted to make a difference for patients at the University of Iowa Stead Family Children's Hospital.

They didn’t overthink it. They didn’t form a committee. They saw a need and acted.

Then something beautiful happened.

Kiwanis International heard what the kids were doing and doubled the money they raised. Miss Joni told the students she knew someone who could get coloring books at a discount and reached out. Word spread. Other donors wanted in. More hands went up.

And today, I’m receiving a box of 50 coloring books from Amazon.

My head is still spinning.

Not because of the books.

Because of the hearts.

This is what happens when people stop waiting for perfect plans and start acting with simple compassion. This is what happens when generosity becomes contagious. This is what happens when a few kids decide to care.

Volunteers are stepping in. Doors are opening. Momentum is building.

And the writer’s block?

Gone.

Stay tuned.

Have a great day.

Early In, Early Out

Stardate 04.06.2026

One of my teammates from my day job is on vacation this week, so I’m starting my shift a little earlier today and tomorrow to help cover for him.

There’s something satisfying about walking into a quiet workplace before the day fully wakes up. The lights seem softer. The noise hasn’t started yet. It feels like borrowed time — a head start not just on work, but on the day itself.

The tradeoff is a gift: extra family time at the end of the day.

I’ve learned to recognize these moments for what they are. They’re small adjustments that create meaningful returns. An earlier alarm. A little more effort on the front end. A little more presence on the back end.

That’s a trade I’ll take every time.

Later today, I plan to check in with the place I ordered our shelves from. I discovered I’m missing a few parts needed to complete the four drawers in the cabinet project I’ve been working on. Once those drawers are installed, the project will be finished.

I didn’t expect to enjoy this process as much as I have.

There’s no better way to learn than by doing. Measuring twice. Adjusting. Realizing you installed something backwards. Taking it apart. Trying again. Learning patience in a very practical, very humbling way.

Some lessons don’t come from books. They come from screws, wood, instructions, and the quiet decision to keep going when it would be easier to walk away.

What surprises me most is not that the cabinet is coming together.

It’s that my confidence is.

I can feel it building as the project progresses. The kind of confidence that doesn’t shout but quietly says, “You can handle more than you thought.”

And because of this one project, I’m already thinking about a bigger one.

More on that later.

For now, I simply want to savor what it feels like to cross a finish line. To see something that once existed only in boxes and loose parts slowly take shape into something useful, sturdy, and complete.

There’s a lesson in that.

Sometimes God builds us the same way.

Piece by piece. Adjustment by adjustment. Mistake by mistake. Until one day we step back and realize we’re not who we were when we started.

“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

This cabinet didn’t come together all at once. Neither do we.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Captain’s Addendum

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating, Captain. You appear to be deriving confidence from cabinetry.”

Bones shook his head. “I’ve seen men find themselves in stranger places than a pile of hardware.”

I smiled. Sometimes the work in front of us is doing more than building a project. It’s building us.

Mission Log complete.

Grateful for early starts, steady progress, and the quiet joy of finishing what we begin.

Happy Easter

Stardate 04.05.2026

Imagine walking up to the tomb and finding it empty.

The week leading up to this moment felt like a week from hell. Confusion. Fear. Grief. You remember wanting to fight back when the mob came for Jesus. One of your friends did draw his sword and struck a man, cutting off his ear. And you watched, stunned, as Jesus calmly picked up the ear and restored it as if violence had no authority in His presence.

That memory is still fresh when you arrive at the tomb.

And now… it’s empty.

Then His words come rushing back.

“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”

The light dawns slowly. The kind of realization that starts in the mind but lands in the heart like thunder.

The temple has been rebuilt.

Jesus is alive.

Death has been conquered.

What felt like the darkest week in human history was actually the setup for the greatest victory the world would ever know.

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24

This morning, we are headed to our house of worship to celebrate Easter Sunday with hearts that are full. Full of gratitude. Full of relief. Full of joy that doesn’t come from circumstances but from truth.

I’m especially thankful today that my body has recovered from whatever crept into my life on Friday and forced me to leave my day job early. For a moment, it felt like my own little retreat into weakness. A forced pause. A reminder that I am not in control of as much as I think I am.

But today, strength is returning.

The sun is shining. The air feels lighter. And the timing is not lost on me.

Just as the tomb did not stay occupied, neither did my bed.

Just as despair did not have the final word, neither did fatigue.

Just as death did not win, neither did whatever tried to slow me down this weekend.

Easter has a way of putting everything into perspective.

The setbacks. The sickness. The exhaustion. The grief. The fear.

They are real.

But they are not final.

We worship a Savior who specializes in turning what looks finished into a fresh beginning.

So today, we rejoice.

Not because life is perfect.

But because hope is alive.

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock tilted his head slightly. “Captain, the data suggests that hope often appears most illogical at the very moment it is most necessary.”

Bones folded his arms. “I’ve seen enough to know, Spock, sometimes the only cure for a weary body is a reminded soul.”

And I smiled, realizing that Easter doesn’t just change history.

It changes how we see today.

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Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Mission Log: Strength returns. Hope remains. Gratitude rises.

Happy Easter.

Health Setback Forces a Retreat

Health Setback Forces a Retreat
Stardate 04.04.2026

This morning, I was treated to breakfast in bed.

Not because it was planned. Not because it was a celebration. But because my body needed a pause.

Something caught up with me near the end of my shift yesterday and made it clear that retreat was the wise choice. I went home early. I skipped Good Friday services. I canceled cardio tennis this morning. And I spent 11½ hours in bed letting my body do what it was asking me to do — recover.

Today will be slow.

Intentional. Gentle.

My hope is to have enough strength later to install the cabinet doors on the new shelves in the basement. But even that will depend on how I feel. There’s no forcing anything today.

And strangely, there’s peace in that.

I’m off today and tomorrow, which feels like a gift. Space to heal without pressure. Space to listen instead of push.

It’s not easy for me to retreat. I like momentum. I like movement. I like checking things off the list.

But sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is step back and let our bodies catch up with our intentions.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.” — Psalm 23:2–3

This morning feels like green pastures.

Not dramatic. Not exciting. Just restorative.

And I’m grateful for that.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, a temporary retreat appears necessary for long-term effectiveness.”

Bones: “In plain English — sometimes you just need to lie down.”

I’m learning that rest is not a setback. It’s often part of the path forward. And today, I’m thankful for the reminder.

Good Friday

Stardate 04.03.2026

Some people wonder why it’s called Good Friday.

They see the suffering. The betrayal. The cross. And they struggle to connect that to anything good.

But what Jesus did on this day over 2,000 years ago stands as the ultimate act of love. Through His suffering came the opening of a door that none of us could open on our own. What looked like loss became the pathway to life.

That’s why it’s good.

Last night, I listened closely as my pastor led the Holy Thursday service. The theme was simple: service. Just as Jesus washed the feet of His followers, we are called to serve others with the same humility and love.

That message stayed with me.

Because I’ve been watching something quietly come full circle in my own life.

About a year ago, I met the person who oversees the Children’s Miracle Network connection at the University of Iowa Stead Family Children’s Hospital. At the time, it felt like a simple conversation — a seed planted for something that might happen someday.

Now, that “someday” is beginning to take shape.

I’m preparing to introduce a coloring book created specifically for patients at the hospital. A small offering meant to bring comfort and distraction during difficult days.

A few weeks ago, my pastor mentioned that part of his calling is visiting these same patients, representing Jesus in their rooms. And as it turns out, my original contact is connected to this same circle of chaplains and caregivers.

Even more surprising, the very group that gathers funds to support this work is now helping spread the word about the coloring book.

And I wasn’t even in the room when these connections came together.

Others were speaking. Doors were opening. Threads were weaving.

I’m simply watching it happen.

On Good Friday, I’m reminded that sometimes God is working behind the scenes long before we understand the pattern. What once looked like separate conversations, separate ideas, separate people are revealing themselves to have been connected all along.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” — Romans 8:28

Just as Jesus opened the door to Heaven through His sacrifice, I’m watching doors open here on earth through quiet acts of service and faithfulness.

I’m thankful for Good Friday.

I’m thankful for momentum in this mission.

And I’m thankful to be walking this journey one step at a time.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, it appears the connections were established long before you perceived them.”

Bones: “Funny how the pieces come together when you weren’t even looking.”

I’m learning that God often builds the path ahead of us while we’re simply taking the next faithful step. And for that, I’m deeply grateful today.

All Things New

Stardate 04.02.2026

Jesus says, “Behold, I make all things new.”

I’ve been thinking about that line this Holy Thursday — the day Jesus knelt to wash the feet of His followers. A simple act of service that confused some of them at first. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t feel right. Until He explained the purpose.

Then they understood.

Sometimes renewal doesn’t look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like humility. Like service. Like quiet obedience to what is right in front of us.

And somehow, through those small acts, something inside us becomes new.

I’m especially thankful today that He has made me new in more ways than I often recognize.

Speaking of new things, I’ve been noticing a gentle wave of renewal happening in everyday parts of my life.

At my day job, our department is getting a physical makeover. Walls are shifting. Workspaces are expanding to accommodate growth. There’s fresh energy in the air as we prepare for what’s coming in the months ahead.

At home, the cabinet project my wife entrusted to me is nearing completion. On Saturday, I’ll install the doors — the final step in a project that has required patience, focus, and steady effort. What began as a pile of parts is turning into something useful and beautiful.

On the courts, my tennis teammates and I are preparing for our pursuit of a state championship and whatever may lie beyond that. There’s excitement there, but also camaraderie. Shared purpose. The joy of working together toward a common goal.

And this weekend, we’re looking forward to time with family.

None of these things are dramatic on their own.

But together, they feel like evidence of something deeper.

Renewal doesn’t always arrive as a lightning bolt. Sometimes it comes as a series of small improvements, quiet responsibilities, and simple acts of service that slowly reshape our days.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new is here!” — 2 Corinthians 5:17

Holy Thursday reminds me that becoming new often begins with serving others right where we are. Not waiting for big moments. Not searching for grand gestures.

Just kneeling in front of the life we’ve been given and tending to it with care.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, renewal appears to be occurring through ordinary acts of service.”

Bones: “Funny how the simple stuff ends up changing us the most.”

I’m learning that God often makes things new not through extraordinary events, but through ordinary faithfulness. And for that, I’m grateful today.

Two Steps Beyond Your Comfort Zone

Stardate 04.01.2026

There’s a reason it’s called a comfort zone.

It’s safe. Predictable. Familiar.

And living there comes with consequences that quietly compound over time. Stay there long enough, and you may one day look up to find that some of your dreams have slipped quietly out of reach. What once felt like possibility slowly turns into regret.

If you’re longing for a greater sense of fulfillment, you might consider trying a small experiment.

Take a breath.

You may even feel your mind trying to distract you from reading the next few lines. That’s normal. The brain is very good at protecting familiar patterns.

So here’s the promise you make to it:

I’m not going more than two steps beyond my comfort zone today.

That’s all.

My life has been a long series of small experiments. Many of them. Some worked. Some didn’t. But most of them required only one or two steps beyond what felt comfortable at the time.

Over the years, I’ve trained my brain to trust this process. I don’t ask it to leap. I don’t demand drastic change. I simply nudge it forward — gently, consistently.

This keeps the internal fire alarms from going off.

The goal is not disruption. The goal is discovery.

Before taking those two steps, pause and look at what you are already doing inside your comfort zone. Ask yourself:

Is there a better way to do this?
What activities are quiet time wasters?
What small new activity could I try today that might improve the quality of my life?

The questions don’t need to be complicated. The answers don’t need to be dramatic.

They just need to move you slightly forward.

What I’ve learned is this: the longer you live just two steps beyond your comfort zone, the more natural growth begins to feel. Change stops feeling threatening and starts feeling possible.

Here’s the simple prompt I use when starting a new experiment:

For the next 30 days, I will take two steps outside my normal pattern of behavior each day.

Be specific. Vague intentions don’t produce meaningful change.

I prefer doing this in the morning, when my mind is rested and less resistant. And I always write the experiment down. Documenting the process allows you to see the quiet progress that’s easy to miss day to day.

Keep this up for a year, and you may look back and barely recognize yourself.

Not because you forced change.

But because you gently invited it.

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” — Zechariah 4:10

Small beginnings. Two steps. One experiment at a time.

That’s often all it takes.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, incremental adjustments to behavior yield statistically significant long-term outcomes.”

Bones: “In plain English, Spock — small steps still get you somewhere.”

I’ve learned that growth doesn’t require dramatic leaps. Most of the time, it just requires the courage to step slightly beyond what feels familiar, and the patience to repeat that step tomorrow.

I’m grateful for the reminder that progress can be gentle.