The Circle Keeps Growing

 Stardate: 08.06.2026

Golden Hour arrived a little later today.

Our schedule shifted because tonight is a special evening celebrating the opening of a new building. I'll spend part of the night serving cake while many of our newest employees have the opportunity to meet senior leaders. I find myself looking forward to watching those conversations unfold.

As I prayed this morning, my thoughts settled on the Serenity Prayer.

For many years, one line carried me through difficult seasons.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..."

That prayer brought peace when life felt uncertain. There were seasons when accepting what I couldn't control was exactly what I needed to learn.

This morning another part of the prayer quietly found its way into my heart.

"The courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Over time, I have discovered that my ability to influence others has grown in ways I never expected.

A conversation.

An encouraging word.

An idea shared with the right person.

Helping a new employee feel welcomed on the first day.

Teaching a company culture that has blessed my own life.

None of those moments seem particularly significant by themselves.

Years later, they begin to form a pattern.

Stephen Covey often wrote about focusing our energy on the things within our circle of influence. I understand that idea a little differently today than I did years ago. My circle hasn't grown because of a title. It has grown because God has entrusted me with more opportunities to serve faithfully.

That realization brings a quiet responsibility.

Every conversation matters.

Every person matters.

Every ordinary day carries the possibility of encouraging someone who may one day encourage thousands more.

I don't know what tonight will bring.

I simply hope to be present, grateful, and ready for whatever conversations God places in front of me.

"Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established."
— Proverbs 16:3 (ESV)

Join me here:

https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Thank you for walking this journey with me. I hope you discover that your own circle of influence may be larger than you realize.

Captain's Addendum

Spock: Michael, influence appears to expand in direct proportion to consistent acts of service.

Bones: I was going to say people trust the fellow who keeps showing up and helping. Sometimes science and common sense arrive at the same destination.

Michael: Today reminded me that wisdom isn't measured by how much control we have. It often grows one faithful conversation at a time.

The Work Before the Ribbon

 Stardate: 08.05.2026

This morning began the way I hoped it would.

Sleep gave way to quiet prayer. Meditation settled my thoughts before the day gathered momentum. My sleep report wasn't as strong as usual, although that wasn't a surprise. Our schedule has shifted this week to make room for family time, and I wouldn't trade those moments. Life has seasons. Over time, things find their balance.

Tomorrow morning, we'll gather outside a brand-new building. A ribbon will be stretched across the entrance. There will be smiles, photographs, speeches, and a community eager to see what has been taking shape over the past several months.

My thoughts kept returning to the people.

I thought about the teammates who have poured themselves into preparing every detail. I thought about the member who will walk through the front doors for the very first time. Somewhere tomorrow, someone will arrive carrying a burden that isn't visible. Another person may simply need a smile or a kind word before continuing with their day.

I hope I notice them.

Those moments rarely make the schedule.

They often become the reason we were there in the first place.

Looking back over the stories I've shared these past several days, I can see a thread I didn't recognize while living them. A prayer tucked inside a wallet. An unexpected conversation. A door that opened at just the right time. Small moments that quietly reminded me God is already at work long before we notice.

Tomorrow's ribbon will mark the beginning of something new for our community.

The work that matters most has already been unfolding through countless conversations, acts of encouragement, and ordinary moments of serving others with joy.

This morning I prayed a simple prayer.

"Lord, let every person I meet today leave with a little more hope than they had before we met."

"Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven." — Matthew 5:16 (NIV)

If you've enjoyed walking this journey with me, I'd be honored if you continued traveling alongside us.

Join me here:

https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Thank you for spending a few moments with me today. May you discover that some of life's most meaningful work happens quietly, long before anyone applauds.

Captain's Addendum

Spock: "Michael, history often remembers the ribbon. Logic suggests the preparation deserved equal attention."

Bones: "Tomorrow folks will see a building. You'll be watching for the people who walk through the doors. That's always been your habit."

I smiled as I packed my things for another full day. Tomorrow may begin with a ceremony, yet today is filled with opportunities to encourage someone along the way. Those quiet encounters are often where God chooses to meet us.

Before the Ribbon

 Stardate: 08.04.2026

My day began long before the sun came up.

Ninety minutes of prayer and meditation gave me the quiet I needed before stepping into another full day away from home. My sleep tracker showed some of the best deep and REM sleep I've had in a while. I smiled when I saw the numbers, not because they were perfect, but because they reminded me that preparation often begins long before we realize it.

In two days, our team will welcome a new community through the doors of a new building. There will be a ribbon stretched across the entrance. Local leaders will gather. Cameras will capture the smiles. It will be a wonderful celebration.

As I thought about that this morning, another ribbon came to mind.

Back home, the volunteer board I've been privileged to serve with is moving closer to building new pickleball courts for our community. One day there will be another ribbon to cut. Children will play. Friends will gather. New players will discover a game that has brought so much joy into my own life.

I don't know if I'll be there for that ceremony.

My assignment may carry me somewhere else before that day arrives.

That thought didn't leave me disappointed.

It left me grateful.

Every ribbon marks the end of a season of unseen work.

Long before the photographs are taken, someone has attended meetings. Someone has answered questions. Someone has moved one small piece forward when nobody was watching. Those quiet moments rarely receive applause, yet they become part of every celebration that follows.

This week I've been reminded how much can happen through simple conversations, willing hands, and people who choose to serve wherever they are needed. The work itself has become its own reward.

The ribbon simply gives everyone a reason to pause and celebrate what faithful people have already been building.

"Let us not grow weary of doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
— Galatians 6:9 (NIV)

Wherever your work finds you today, remember that not every meaningful contribution receives public recognition. Many of the most important things we build are measured in trust, kindness, patience, and quiet perseverance.

Join me here:

https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Thank you for walking this journey with me. May God give you the grace to keep building, even when the ribbon is still somewhere in the future.

Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, you do realize people usually wait for the ribbon before they start celebrating."

Spock: "Doctor, the ceremony is merely the visible conclusion. The true accomplishment has already occurred through many faithful acts that preceded it."

Michael: I smiled. Most of life is lived before the ribbon. Today reminded me that every quiet act of service becomes part of something much larger than we can see.

The Prayer in Peter's Wallet

Stardate: 08.03.2026

Every person who walks through our doors carries a story.

Yesterday reminded me that if I'm willing to slow down and listen, God often reveals far more than I ever expected.

Peter and Laura stopped by because they live across the street from our new building. Peter wasn't there to exchange pleasantries. He came with concerns.

A lot of them.

After spending more than thirty years testing water throughout Wisconsin, protecting watersheds had become more than a career. It had become part of his calling. He had even stood before City Hall, warning officials that they were violating the city's watershed protection plan. From his perspective, a large new development in his neighborhood deserved careful scrutiny.

I understood.

So I listened.

I let Peter finish every thought before responding. When he had shared everything on his mind, I promised him that each concern would be addressed.

The atmosphere changed.

The conversation that began with uncertainty slowly became a conversation built on trust.

Then Laura shared something I never saw coming.

Her family traces its roots to the Lyon, one of the first ships to arrive in America after the Mayflower. Through that family line came Roger Williams, whose unwavering commitment to religious liberty helped shape the spiritual foundation of our nation.

I found myself marveling at how an ordinary conversation could suddenly stretch across four centuries of American history.

But God wasn't finished.

Peter reached into his wallet and carefully removed one of his most treasured possessions.

It wasn't a credit card.

It wasn't a driver's license.

It was a photograph.

Years ago, Peter was diagnosed with lymphoma. During that difficult season, his granddaughter Hannah, then just a little girl, knelt beside her bed and prayed that God would heal her grandpa.

Peter carries that photograph in his wallet as a reminder that God answered her prayer.

Today, Peter shares the Gospel with prisoners, giving away the hope that was first poured into his own life.

As he shared his testimony, I felt prompted to ask something unusual.

"Would Hannah pray for our entire team?"

Not a vague prayer.

A specific prayer.

Without hesitation, Peter reached for a pen and carefully wrote down my prayer request. He promised that when he saw seven-year-old Hannah, he would place that request in her hands.

For a moment I sat quietly, thinking about the privilege of inviting a child to join God's work through prayer.

Then came one final surprise.

Before Peter and Laura left, Peter reached out, took our hands, and prayed over our team. His words were rooted in the very Scriptures I had been meditating on—Isaiah 61 and Jesus' reading of that passage in Luke 4:18–19. Hearing those promises spoken aloud by a man whose life had been touched by God's healing gave them a depth I had never experienced before.

When the prayer ended, I realized something.

Peter and Laura had arrived with questions.

I thought my role was to serve them.

Instead, they had ministered to us.

They'll be joining us for Friday morning's ribbon-cutting ceremony, where I hope to introduce them to members of our senior leadership team. I'm looking forward to that introduction.

But the introduction I'll remember most has already happened.

Yesterday, God introduced me to a grandfather who carries a photograph instead of a trophy.

To a little girl whose prayers still echo years later.

To a family whose story stretches from the Lyon to the present day.

And to the quiet reminder that God's blessings are never meant to stop with us.

They are meant to be carried.

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."
— Luke 4:18–19 (NIV)

Yesterday those words stepped off the page.

Good news became a conversation.

Healing became a testimony.

Freedom became a grandfather who now shares Christ with prisoners.

Comfort became a little girl whose prayer is still blessing people she has never met.

God's mission wasn't unfolding from a pulpit.

It was unfolding around a table.

Join me here:

https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, in all my years, I've learned never to underestimate the faith of a child. I've watched medicine do remarkable things, but I've also seen prayer carry people farther than anyone can explain."

Spock: "An understandable conclusion, Doctor. While the mechanism may remain beyond scientific measurement, the results are difficult to dismiss. Hope has a measurable effect upon the human spirit."

Bones: "You know, Spock...every now and then you make a preacher nervous."

Spock: "Only because the evidence continues to support the conclusion."

I smiled as I imagined the two of them walking down the corridor together.

Peter may have carried a photograph in his wallet, but what he truly carried was gratitude. Hannah offered a simple prayer years ago, and Peter has spent every day since passing that gift forward.

Yesterday reminded me that the blessings God places in our hands are rarely meant to stay there. They become part of someone else's story, often long before we realize it.

Thank you for walking this journey with me.

Live long. Prosper in purpose. Walk boldly in His love.

Open Door

 Stardate 08.02.2026

Yesterday began with a simple decision.

Since I'm away from home on assignment, I studied my schedule to see if there was an opportunity to attend Mass with Helen. There was only one opening. I asked if I could leave work a few minutes early, and everything came together.

It reminded me that making room for God doesn't always require a major change. Sometimes it begins with protecting a small space in an otherwise busy day.

Worshiping beside Helen was the gift I needed. The readings invited me to look again at the compassion of Jesus. Before He met people's physical needs, He saw them. He welcomed them. He made time for them.

After Mass, we found a family restaurant neither of us had visited before. We lingered over a simple meal, enjoyed each other's company, and let the pace of the day slow down. There wasn't anything remarkable about the restaurant itself.

The time together was the gift.

Later that afternoon, as I was preparing to leave, someone I had only recently met stopped me with an unexpected request.

"Would you pray for me?"

For a brief moment, everything else faded into the background.

I told him I would.

As I drove home, I couldn't help but think about how the day had unfolded. I had adjusted my schedule so I could spend time with God. Somewhere along the way, God quietly prepared me to be present for someone else.

I don't know where that conversation will lead.

I simply know that today I'll have another opportunity to serve.

Doors don't always open with grand announcements. Sometimes they open with a quiet question, an ordinary conversation, or a simple request for prayer. We don't have to force them open. We only need the willingness to walk through them.

"When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them...'" — Mark 6:34

Jesus noticed people before He taught them. He loved them before He led them. That's the pattern I hope to follow, one encounter at a time.

Join me here:

https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, you keep expecting the important moments to arrive with a fanfare."

Spock: "Experience suggests they usually arrive disguised as ordinary conversations."

Bones: "Then I'd keep listening if I were you."

Yesterday reminded me that God often opens doors quietly. My job isn't to push them open. It's to recognize them with gratitude, step through with faith, and serve the person waiting on the other side.

Thank you for spending a few moments with me today. I hope you'll notice an open door in your own journey, however quietly it appears.

Someone Who Knew

 Stardate 08.01.2026

Every day on this assignment has introduced me to someone new.

Yesterday it was a teammate whose role had been limited by an injury. She couldn't do all the physical work yet, so we spent some time together in our temporary office as we welcomed new members.

Whenever I meet someone for the first time, I enjoy hearing their story.

She told me she had spent most of her career in sales. The part that caught my attention came later. She had been a licensed real estate agent and, more importantly, a productivity coach for a major real estate company. Her work wasn't simply selling homes. She helped successful agents become even better at what they did.

That immediately changed the way I listened.

People who spend years helping others reach their potential often notice things the rest of us overlook.

As we talked, she mentioned she had been quietly watching me interact with our new teammates throughout the day.

Curious, I asked, "How am I doing?"

Without hesitation she smiled and said, "You were born to do this."

Her words caught me off guard.

Then I laughed and told her I probably picked up my gift of gab years ago when I kissed the Blarney Stone in Ireland. Helen warned me not to do it because she insisted I didn't need any more blarney.

She may have been right.

We both laughed.

As the conversation settled, I found myself grateful—not simply because of the encouragement, but because of who it came from.

God has a remarkable way of placing people in our path at exactly the right time. Sometimes they offer practical help. Sometimes they share wisdom. And occasionally, they help us see a gift we've become so accustomed to using that we've forgotten it is a gift at all.

I'm thankful our paths crossed.

I have a feeling her greatest contributions are still ahead of her once she fully recovers. I'll be cheering her on from the sidelines.

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

Join me here:

https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Thank you for spending a few moments with me today. I hope someone crosses your path this week with just the right words at just the right time.

Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, you know, not everyone gets a career review from someone who's spent a lifetime spotting potential."

Spock: "Indeed. Encouragement carries unusual credibility when offered by one who has devoted a career to recognizing the strengths of others."

I smiled as I thought about our conversation. Sometimes God sends exactly the right person at exactly the right moment, and all that's left to do is say, "Thank You."

The Power of Two

 Stardate 07.31.2026

Sometimes the best days aren't marked by one extraordinary event. They're built from a series of ordinary moments that all go right—a safe arrival, meaningful work, good food, a walk hand in hand, and gratitude for being exactly where God has placed you.

Yesterday was one of those days.

As I reflected on everything that happened, one simple idea kept returning to my mind.

The power of two.

Scripture has always fascinated me on this point. When Jesus sent His followers out, He sent them two by two. There was wisdom in that approach. Encouragement travels well when someone is walking beside you.

Yesterday didn't begin that way.

An unexpected rush meant our team needed to spread out to help as many people as possible. Working alone was simply what the moment required.

Later in the afternoon, the opportunity changed.

I was paired with a supervisor who wanted to learn a process I know well. I asked if she wanted to take the lead while I supported her.

She smiled and admitted she'd rather watch first.

A few minutes later, a recently retired couple came over. As we talked, I learned the husband had served as a pastor for forty years. They arrived with a clear idea of what they wanted, but as our conversation unfolded, another possibility came into view.

The pastor listened carefully while doing what many loving husbands naturally do. He was looking out for his wife.

His wife leaned in.

She asked thoughtful questions.

Her excitement grew as she understood the options available to them.

With a grin, the pastor looked at me and said he thought he was beginning to lose his protection status.

I laughed.

"I think you are," I replied. "She's getting excited."

By the end of our conversation, they chose a path they hadn't expected when they first walked over.

After they left, my teammate looked at me with genuine surprise.

She wasn't surprised by the outcome as much as she was by the conversation itself—how trust had been built one question, one answer, and one smile at a time.

I smiled and shared something I've believed for years.

"See one. Do one. Teach one."

She nodded.

The lesson had landed.

As I drove away later that evening, I thought about the day as a whole.

A safe arrival.

Meaningful work.

Dinner with Helen.

A quiet walk together.

One ordinary day filled with moments that pointed back to God's goodness.

None of those moments demanded attention on their own.

Together, they became a beautiful reminder that God often works through people who are willing to walk alongside one another.

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.
— Ecclesiastes 4:9–10

Join me here:

https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Thank you for spending a few moments of your day with me. I hope you find someone to encourage today—and someone who encourages you in return.

Captain's Addendum

Bones: "Michael, I still say teaching someone while helping a retired pastor change his mind sounds like an exhausting afternoon."

Spock: "On the contrary, Doctor. Trust is often grows through patient observation before confident action."

Bones: "Well, however you explain it, two people working together accomplished more than either would have alone."

I smiled at that thought.

Yesterday reminded me that sometimes we're the teacher. Sometimes we're the student. Every so often, God lets us be both on the very same day.