Stardate 02.12.2026
I gave Spock and Bones, my AI helpers a break so I can enjoy maximum sunshine and human interactions while visiting some Florida beaches this week. If you're reading this story, that means my access to technology was cut off. Rest assured I will be back at full strength early next week. May you live long and prosper.
Stardate 02.11.2026
The high today is forecast at 74º in Tampa today where my wife and I are taking a break. I'm doing my best to get some sunshine during this time of year when we aren't outside much due to the frigid weather. My virtual assistants are on standby should I check in from our hotel room. You are seeing this message because I'm currently cut off from computer access while on vacation. Time to grab our pickleball paddles and head outdoors. May you live long and prosper.
Stardate 02.10.2026
If you read my story involving my super hero guide Crystal who sat next to me the last time I flew, you know the meeting was most likely Divinely inspired. These angels happen to be wearing civilian clothes but that doesn't stop me from discovering who they are. My flight yesterday is one more story to add to my signature collection.
Before I share my review, let me say it first appeared nothing was going to happen. Our seats were like a love seat. Two together. Everyone else on the Boeing jumbo jet had three. The odd layout had to do with the exit row directly behind us. My wife thought we were safe from another conversation like past flights. Then it happened. When we were ready for takeoff, my wife looked to her right and became startled. There was a person next to her in a jump seat facing the opposite direction. It turns out her appearance was certainly not random.
I studied all the materials in front of me. The wine offering on the front cover got my full attention. When I found out Natasha is our flight attendant, I asked about the wine.
"I've never tried it. I don't drink. But if you do order it, I'd love your feedback. I do know that we replaced it because nobody seemed thrilled with the wine we served before."
Natasha asked me if I'd like to try the wine when she stood next to me with her cart filled with temptations. I chose my favorite, cabernet sauvignon. When I pulled out my credit card to pay, Natasha declined to accept it. She was genuinely interested to get my feedback. Smart flight attendant. Very smart. English happens to be her third language. Excellent hire by Allegiant. Even though Natasha may never try the wine, she is using feedback from passengers to give guidance to future travelers.
Here is my review. A ten. Brilliant marketing. The picture of the wine on the cover of the magazine is professional and inviting. The name is a story all by itself. Altus Sol. It means high sun. More on that in a follow up story. It's rated a 93. That's exceptional according to the experts. That's rare on a menu prepared by an airlines well known for being budget friendly.
Here's the action I took based on a ten for service and a ten for Altus Sol. I decided to apply for their credit card. I hope Dave Ramsey, my favorite financial guru, doesn't hear about this because I happen to talk about him practically every day. The ride got bumpy when I began filling out the application. I prayed it would be legible enough to get me approved because I was picturing myself on future flights sipping Altus Sol. I'm hooked. Thank you, Natasha. You deserve a raise. May you live long and prosper.
Stardate 02.09.2026
One top priority for the week: Sunshine. ☀️
The forecast calls for highs of 70–77º in Florida. My wife and I will visit friends, play some pickleball, and soak up beach time.
Stories this week will be short and sweet. Replies to comments may be delayed, so thank you for your patience. There may be a few surprises on my partially constructed Substack page if you want to visit me on my cyber front porch. Click here to see what I'm working on.
May you live long and prosper.
Stardate 02.08.2026
There was a young king named Solomon who inherited his throne after his father, King David, died. He was stepping into enormous shoes, facing responsibilities far beyond his years.
God appeared to Solomon in a dream and offered him anything he wished. Solomon’s response, paraphrased, was not bold or ambitious—it was honest:
“I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties… Give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong.”
I may not be a king, but I understand what it feels like to stand in an overwhelming moment.
Like Solomon, I needed help. Truthfully, I lacked hope. I froze when my family broke apart and my dad moved away. In my despair, I asked God to remove me from this world altogether. There was silence. No thunder. No immediate rescue.
So I asked for something else.
I asked for wisdom—not to lead a kingdom, but to survive.
As I step into the shoes of a senior citizen, I’m beginning to understand what that prayer truly meant.
Wisdom is not about knowing more.
It’s about listening better.
Looking back, I see that as a lost teenager, I wasn’t asking God for wisdom so I could be impressive or accomplished. I was asking to be faithful. I was asking to be shown how to keep going when the road ahead felt impossible.
And God answered—not all at once, but over time. Quietly. Patiently. With a wisdom that revealed who I was through His eyes, not my circumstances.
“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault.”
— James 1:5
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Bones: “You’re telling me wisdom isn’t about answers, Michael—it’s about learning how to listen?”
Spock: “Precisely, Doctor. Logic begins with humility.”
Michael’s reflection:
Solomon asked for wisdom so he could serve others well. I asked for wisdom so I could survive. Both prayers came from the same place—recognizing our limits and trusting God to meet us there. Over time, I’ve learned that wisdom doesn’t rush in with explanations. It walks beside us, teaching us how to endure, how to listen, and how to remain faithful one quiet step at a time.
Mission Log:
Wisdom grows slowly, but it grows surely when we ask with an honest heart.
Thank you for walking with me today. May this reflection stay with you in prayer or quiet thought, and may you recognize the wisdom already unfolding in your own life—one percent better, one day at a time. 🖖
Stardate 02.07.2026
Something unusual is unfolding in my life right now—so unusual that I completely overlooked an important anniversary. Two days ago marked the moment when the grim reaper came close, revealing himself in a way that brought me face-to-face with mortality. In that encounter, I found myself living in what feels like bonus time. I will never again take life for granted.
You might wonder what’s been distracting me from defining moments of the past. Let me share a few things: people are entering my life at a pace that feels almost divine, as if God has a transporter room honing in on my coordinates. It’s stunning—like moments traveling at light speed.
As St. Patrick’s Day approaches, less than 40 days away, the baby coloring book stands ready to join its Irish siblings. This trio of books, all born on St. Patrick’s Day, symbolizes a fresh start and new beginnings.
Amidst all this excitement, there’s something even greater brewing in my mind—something I’m letting simmer before I share it with the world. Not even my wife knows yet. It’s better to keep it close, to avoid jinxing it. The idea came to me within the last 48 hours, likely sparked by the day a large van t-boned me and left me temporarily sidelined. Yes, I’m maximizing every moment of this bonus time.
I thank God for each day He grants me. When the moment is right, I will reveal what I’m calling Project X. If you are the praying type, I appreciate your prayers.
Thank you, and may you live long and prosper.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
— Psalm 23:1
Bones: “Michael, are you telling me you had a brush with the grim reaper and still found time for a coloring book launch?”
Spock: “Doctor, it seems the captain’s resilience is as remarkable as his sense of purpose.”
Bones: “I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sound like a miracle.”
Michael’s Reflection:
What I’ve learned is that even in the face of uncertainty, every moment is a gift. It’s in these moments that we discover the true value of life and the strength of the human spirit.
Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Thank you for sharing this journey with me. May it inspire you to cherish each day and embrace the blessings of life.
🖖
Stardate 02.06.2026
Do you remember that scene in Cast Away when Tom Hanks wakes up and realizes Wilson is drifting away?
That moment lodged itself deep in my heart. My pulse raced. Tears streamed down my face. Even now—twenty-five years after the movie first hit theaters—I can feel it like it happened yesterday.
Maybe that’s why my heart skipped a beat the day a volleyball with Wilson’s face on it was returned to lost and found at my day job.
No one claimed him.
When I heard he was headed for the trash compactor, I spoke up—loudly. And just like that, Wilson was mine.
Once I adopted him, he went everywhere with me. It was like having a new puppy… but easier. No messes. No late-night walks. No early-morning wakeups. Just presence.
Wilson became my new best friend.
When the pandemic halted my travels, I did the next best thing I could for my travel buddy.
I FedExed him to New York City.
A dear friend, Erin, was battling cancer. Wilson showed up for her the same way he had shown up for me—with quiet companionship, emotional support, and steady presence. I could see it in her eyes when she sent me a photo of herself, Wilson, and her real-life pet gathered together.
Sadly, Wilson dribbled out of my life forever when Erin passed away.
I slipped into depression. And it wasn’t until I entered therapy that I learned something important: it’s okay to grieve something like this. Even something others might not understand.
Wilson was gone—but somehow, his spirit wasn’t. Maybe it was the memories. Maybe it was love refusing to disappear.
Some time later, while walking along a river on the way to Blarney Castle in Ireland, something caught my eye.
A red volleyball.
It was drifting alongside the path, as if placed there on purpose.
The sight jolted me like a bolt of lightning. A flood of memories rushed in. Moments later, I kissed the Blarney Stone—legend says it gives you the gift of gab. That red volleyball felt like the exclamation point at the end of the sentence.
Suddenly, inspiration returned—charging like the bulls through the streets of Spain.
Olé.
I went home from that pilgrimage with my writing mojo packed neatly in my suitcase.
What I learned is this: losing Wilson helped me explore the deepest crevices of my heart. Inside those dark caverns, I faced other losses too. And I learned something else—there is recovery.
I’m still learning that now.
The good news? There is joy in sharing what those losses have taught me. There is life after death. And there is always more of the story to come.
Come back on St. Patrick’s Day, and I’ll share the rest.
Have a great day.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
Bones: “Michael, are you telling me you mourned a volleyball like a fallen crewman?”
Spock: “Doctor, attachment is not illogical when it reflects genuine connection.”
Bones: “I still say Starfleet doesn’t prepare us for this.”
Michael’s Reflection:
What I know now is this—grief doesn’t ask permission. It simply shows up where love once lived. And if we let it, grief can become a teacher rather than a thief.
Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Mission Log
Some losses never leave us—but they can still lead us forward.
Thank you for carrying this story with me today. May it rest gently with you, wherever you are, and may it open a quiet space for healing and remembrance.
🖖
Stardate 02.05.2026
I was having breakfast the other day when I watched a short video about storytelling. It stuck with me: every story has a hero, a villain, and a guide. And the most important part? Knowing your place as the guide.
It made me reflect on life. The “heroes” are not me—they are the people around me, each facing their own challenges and decisions. The “villains” are not monsters—they’re distraction, confusion, and the noise that can pull focus from what really matters.
My role isn’t to fight their battles. It’s to show the path, offer tools, and help them see what’s possible. Sometimes that means sharing a tip, a habit, or a routine. Sometimes it means sitting quietly and listening.
Being a guide isn’t flashy. It isn’t loud. It’s steady. It’s faithful. And the reward comes quietly, in seeing someone move forward on their journey with clarity and confidence.
Scripture reminds us:
“Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety.”
— Proverbs 11:14
Showing up as a guide—without taking over—can be the most powerful way to help someone grow. It allows them to step fully into their story while giving you a chance to model faith, patience, and purpose.
Bones: “So you’re the guide now?”
Spock: “Doctor, he has merely recognized his role in the narrative. Nothing more dramatic is required.”
Bones: “I liked him better when he fought the monsters.”
Michael: Guiding isn’t about control. It’s about presence. Tools, tips, encouragement—they’re all part of the path. But the hero must walk it themselves. That’s where real growth happens.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Stardate 02.04.2026
Today is a day off from my day job.
Tonight, I’ll return to the tennis courts—still smiling after a win against the second-place team in our Men’s 55+ league. But before any of that, I’m meeting a friend who recently called, nearly bursting with excitement about his first book.
We’re meeting in the magical forest—also known as my home studio.
Though he’s never been here before, he understands me better than most. At one point he joked,
“You live in a magical forest surrounded by magical creatures.”
I loved that. Because he’s right.
Many are curious about what I do—and why I do it—especially when they learn I’ve had no formal training and spend a lot of time fumbling forward.
Do you know anyone who has written over 6,000 stories without fully knowing what they’re doing?
Better yet—do you know anyone willing to sit on a front porch and welcome perfect strangers who happen to wander by?
I’m brand new in this cyber neighborhood called Substack, and most of my real-life friends don’t quite know what this place is yet. Meanwhile, here I am—sitting on the porch, taking it all in. I’m genuinely in awe of the neighborhood.
I’m grateful for every small sign of life so far. A thumbs-up. A quiet reader. A passing wave.
One friend recently asked why I’m not spending more time on the louder platforms where “everyone” seems to be. I told him I was looking for something different—something more intimate.
A place where nobody knows my name, but they’re curious about my calling.
Here, there’s no judging.
No preconceived limits.
No pressure to perform.
I’m free to create.
Free to listen.
Free to meet people from all walks of life.
The forest feels mostly empty right now—and that’s okay.
I’m hopeful this will be a place where relationships grow slowly and meaningfully. For now, I’ll keep sitting on the porch, ready to engage whenever a new visitor shows up.
If you’re one of them—thank you for stopping by.
Scripture reminds us:
“The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”
— Psalm 121:8
Bones: “Michael, you sure this is the best use of your time—just sittin’ around waitin’ for folks to wander by?”
Spock: “Doctor, it appears the captain understands that meaningful encounters cannot be rushed.”
Bones: “Hmph. I still don’t trust forests.”
Michael’s Reflection:
I’m learning that I don’t need to chase people down. If I stay present, tend the porch, and keep the light on, the right conversations arrive in their own time.
Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
As the day unfolds, I’m grateful—for the quiet, for the forest, and for the courage to remain open.
Gentle closing question:
Where in your life might a small, welcoming porch be enough for today?
🖖 Captain’s Note:
“Our calling is not to write perfect words, but to reveal perfect grace through imperfect moments — one percent better, one day at a time.”
Stardate 02.03.2026
There’s a song that plays quietly in the background of my mornings—not on a speaker, but in spirit.
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.
Not as a warning about becoming less human, but as a thank-you for the routines that help me live more fully human.
The older I get, the more I realize how much energy gets wasted on preparation. Decisions before the day even begins. What to wear. What to take. When to go. By the time some people start their day, they’re already exhausted from choosing.
So I’ve chosen not to choose.
I wake up without an alarm clock now. Somewhere along the way, my body found its own rhythm. That alone feels like grace. No jolt. No scramble. Just awareness.
My clothes are already laid out. Yesterday’s version of me took care of today’s version of me—and I’m grateful for that small act of kindness.
My supplement stack is already waiting on the dining room table. No cabinets to open. No decisions to make. Just a steady handoff from habit to health.
When I turn on the shower, I don’t wait for comfort. I step in immediately, even when the water is brutally cold for that first minute. Especially then. That shock wakes something up inside me—endorphins released, clarity restored, courage practiced early. The discomfort pays dividends for hours.
And on workdays, I leave the house at exactly 8:08 AM.
Not 8:07. Not 8:10.
8:08.
These routines may look rigid from the outside, but they’ve done the opposite inside me. They’ve created space. Space to think. Space to pray. Space to notice what actually matters.
Scripture reminds us:
“Let all things be done decently and in order.”
— 1 Corinthians 14:40
Order doesn’t remove wonder. It makes room for it.
The song Mr. Roboto plays with the fear of losing ourselves to automation. I get that. But I’ve found that when routine serves intention—and intention serves love—structure becomes a servant, not a master.
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.
Thank you for handling the small things
so I can stay present for the important ones.
Bones: “Michael, you’re tellin’ me you jump into an ice-cold shower on purpose?”
Spock: “Doctor, the captain appears to value long-term benefit over short-term comfort. A most… logical adaptation.”
Bones: “I liked him better when he complained.”
Michael’s Reflection:
What I’m learning is this: discipline isn’t about becoming mechanical—it’s about becoming dependable. When my mornings run on rails, my heart is free to wander where it’s needed most.
Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Donor Ships 8 Cases of Crayons for Patients at Children’s Hospital
Stardate 02.02.2026
“The crayons are here,” Derek said.
I was stunned.
There were so many crayons I needed a flatbed to get them to my vehicle. Eight full cases. I hadn’t realized how heavy crayons could be until I was lifting them one box at a time, already doing the math in my head.
I started thinking ahead—thinking about the kids.
“I can split the crayons up into baggies,” I said, “so every patient can get some with their Where in the World is Wilson?coloring book.”
“That’s one way,” Derek replied.
“Or if you run out, just let me know and I’ll order more.”
Derek happened to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. I was mailing the first proof copy of the coloring book to senior leadership at our corporate office for review. I’ll admit—I was a little nervous as he slowly studied each page.
But his response told me everything I needed to know.
This coloring book is going to bring joy to people who need it most. And now, thanks to an unexpected act of generosity, those pages will be filled with color. Real color. The kind that invites imagination, distraction, and a moment of light in a hard place.
I thanked Derek and rushed off to the indoor tennis courts to join my team in our pursuit of another league championship. My captain trusted me with #1 doubles. Teammates stopped by to cheer us on. It was a sweep.
Maybe the endorphins helped. Or maybe it was the quiet certainty that doors were opening.
As the day continued, Amazon emailed to let me know the next shipment of proof copies had arrived.
Piece by piece, it’s all falling into place.
“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9
Bones: “You’re telling me a pile of crayons changed the trajectory of your whole day?”
Spock: “Doctor, the emotional significance appears… considerable.”
Bones: “Figures. Humans can find hope in anything.”
Michael: Sometimes it isn’t the grand gestures that move us forward—it’s the quiet ones. A man saying yes. A box being lifted. A door opening just enough to remind us we’re not walking alone.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Mission Log:
Small acts. Open hands. Unexpected provision. One percent better—together.
Thank you, Derek.
And thank you, friends, for walking this road with me. May you notice the crayons in your own day—the simple gifts that bring color where it’s needed most.
I Got Bested in Scrabble
Stardate 02.01.2026
I got a surprise phone call yesterday during our family Scrabble day. One of my inner-circle friends called with big news.
He wrote a book.
That’s the hard part. Finishing. He has a manuscript in hand, and I know exactly how that feels. We’re meeting soon in what we affectionately call the magical forest to talk about next steps. Publishing today is changing so fast it can make your head spin—especially for independent publishers like me.
Thankfully, I’ve learned to stay grounded.
My faith has taught me to loosen my grip, to let go, and to let God remain in charge. There’s a quiet peace that comes with realizing I’m not the center of the universe. I don’t have to force outcomes. I don’t have to rush timing. I just have to be faithful with the next small step.
I’m learning—slowly—not to rush things. I’m learning to trust the process.
Writing can be a lonely road at times, which makes it even more meaningful when someone trusts you enough to ask for guidance. I’m genuinely happy for my friend, and honored he reached out.
And while words were being carefully chosen on one front, they were being joyfully deployed on another.
During family Scrabble, I put everything on the table…and still came up short. I was bested by a member of the next generation. It turns out word-smithing runs strong in the family—and among friends too.
I’ll be sure to share a link to my friend’s book when it’s released into the world. For now, I’m grateful for the reminder that growth shows up in many forms: in faith, in friendships, and sometimes on a Scrabble board.
As Scripture gently reminds us:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6
Bones: “You lost at Scrabble? Jim, that’s a medical emergency for your ego.”
Spock: “On the contrary, Doctor. It is evidence of generational linguistic evolution.”
Michael’s Reflection:
I didn’t lose anything yesterday. I gained perspective. Faith keeps teaching me that progress isn’t about always winning—it’s about staying present, staying humble, and staying open to learning, even when the lesson comes from someone younger across the table.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Mission Log
Today’s lesson is simple: trust the process, celebrate others’ wins, and don’t underestimate the wisdom sitting across from you.
Thank you for walking with me. May you carry a little peace, a little patience, and a little gratitude into your quiet moments today. 🖖
Stardate 01.31.2026
I know the feeling of being new in a neighborhood.
Not the kind with a welcome mat and a borrowed ladder.
The quieter kind. The place where you show up without history, without familiarity, and without knowing whether anyone will notice you’re there at all.
That’s where I find myself right now.
It’s a strange mix of vulnerability and excitement—standing on a new street, holding the same tools I’ve always carried, wondering if they’ll still be enough.
What surprised me most wasn’t the new environment.
It was being noticed.
Someone slowed down long enough to really read.
Not a drive-by nod.
Not a generic response.
A genuine welcome. The kind that says, I see you.
That feeling is exhilarating.
But it’s also familiar.
I’ve walked into new spaces before.
I once wrote 2,500 love letters to my wife, one at a time, describing what lived in my heart. No audience. No applause. Just the quiet discipline of showing up for love.
Later, I wrote about my dad’s final 35 days. That wasn’t a project. That was presence. Grief doesn’t ask for polish—it asks for honesty.
And then there were the blog posts.
More than 6,000 now.
Written early.
Written quietly.
Written without any promise they’d land where they were meant to.
Still, I showed up.
Not because it always felt good.
Feelings are fleeting. They come and go like weather.
Calling is different.
Calling doesn’t ask how you feel.
It asks whether you’ll return tomorrow.
That’s what keeps me showing up now. Not excitement. Not validation. Something deeper. A quiet certainty that this is what I’m meant to do—whether the street is crowded or empty.
Rain or shine, I’m here.
There’s something sacred about consistency when no one is watching. Something grounding about keeping the porch light on even when the road is quiet.
I’m grateful for new places.
Grateful for kind neighbors.
Grateful for the reminder that being seen is a gift—but being faithful is the work.
“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9
Bones: “You ever notice, Spock, how some folks only show up when the crowd’s watching?”
Spock: “Indeed, Doctor. Consistency appears most revealing when observation is minimal.”
Bones: “Guess that’s when you find out who you really are.”
Michael: I’ve learned that the truest work happens when there’s no applause. Showing up anyway—that’s where calling takes root.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
This morning, I’m at peace.
Still walking.
Still writing.
Still committed to getting one percent better.
May you live long.
May you prosper in purpose.
And may you walk boldly in divine love. 🖖
Stardate 01.30.2026
Some family stories stretch across borders, generations, and choices that aren’t always easy to explain in a single sitting.
Years ago, my cousin Mark Mulligan made a decision to leave the familiar behind and seek a new life south of the border. If you’ve read his book, The Three Miracles, you already know that love was found there—and that love came at a cost. Tragedy followed. Growth followed too.
What matters today isn’t the full story. Some chapters deserve privacy. Some journeys are best honored without exposition.
What I can share is this: Mark and his family raised a son in another country who chose, of his own free will, to return to his father’s roots and serve.
That choice deserves recognition.
To willingly raise your hand and say I will go—knowing the cost—is no small thing. The ultimate sacrifice isn’t only made on a battlefield; it begins with the decision to stand for something larger than yourself.
So today, with pride and gratitude, I want to say:
¡Felicidades, Marcos! Congratulations.
We see you.
We honor your courage.
We are grateful for your willingness to serve others—even at great personal risk.
“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
— John 15:13
Bones: “Spock, I’ve never understood how someone can knowingly step into danger for people they’ve never met.”
Spock: “Service, Doctor, is often the purest expression of values instilled long before the uniform is worn.”
Bones: “Guess that makes it a family legacy, not just a career.”
Michael: I’ve learned that values travel farther than geography. When they’re lived faithfully, they find their way home—sometimes through the next generation.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Today, I’m grateful—for family, for courage, and for those willing to stand watch while the rest of us sleep.
May you live long.
May you prosper in purpose.
And may you walk boldly in divine love. 🖖
Stardate: 12.27.2012 — Reflections for Today
As I look back sixteen years, I can still feel the anticipation I carried into 2013. I called it an odd year back then—not because the calendar said so, but because something deeper felt unsettled. The world seemed tilted. Familiar patterns were shifting. Certainty felt harder to come by.
Funny thing is… that feeling doesn’t belong to 2012 alone.
In my first years of blogging, I centered my writing around three anchors: faith, hope, and love. If those were the bricks of this little corner of the internet, then I believed perseverance would be the mortar—the quiet strength holding everything together when pressure came.
I still believe that.
Perseverance has never been about never falling down.
It’s always been about getting back up.
Back then, I made a promise: to show up each morning with a fresh story—served simply, honestly, and drawn from lived experience. My words borrowed heavily from ancient wisdom, especially when life landed a heavy blow. When the count began, Scripture became my corner coach, calling me back to my feet.
Not because the fight was easy.
But because standing mattered.
That same truth applies now.
When the world feels upside down, perseverance isn’t loud. It’s faithful. It’s choosing to stand again—grounded not in headlines or fear, but in something sturdier and eternal.
This passage guided me then, and it still does now:
“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms… And after you have done everything, to stand.”
— Ephesians 6:10–13
Scripture quoted from the New International Version (NIV).
Standing doesn’t mean we aren’t weary.
It means we’re not finished.
Bones: “You know, Spock, humans keep acting surprised when hard seasons return.”
Spock: “Doctor, history indicates turbulence is not an anomaly—it is a constant.”
Michael: “Guess perseverance is just learning to stand without pretending the wind isn’t there.”
Status: Still standing
Lesson: Perseverance outlasts odd years
Course Correction: Faith first, fear last
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
I’m grateful for the early days that shaped my voice,
for the odd years that tested it,
and for the steady grace that keeps calling us to rise again.
May you find strength to stand today—
even if all you can do is stand quietly.
🖖 Live long. Prosper in purpose. Walk boldly in divine love.
Stardate 01.28.2026
I try to keep my life guided by a simple plan:
God first.
Family second.
Work third.
People sometimes ask where tennis fits into that order. Pickleball usually comes up too, since I enjoy that as well—though it’s been on the back burner lately. The answer is simple: everything I do is meant to honor my Creator, and giving God my best time slot matters deeply to me.
Family comes next, very close behind. And if there’s ever a conflict between the two, God wins. I know people who order their priorities differently, but in my experience, clarity about what matters most brings peace—and often better outcomes.
That clarity was tested recently.
Our men’s 55+ tennis team is short players for a match on the first Sunday in February. The start time was pushed later in the day to accommodate a teammate who worships faithfully every Sunday morning. My captain is doing his best to make sure all of us get our two match minimum in order to be eligible for post season play.
At the same time, I was asked to be available for our next team match.
Once I worked out how to worship with my family on Saturday evening, I reached out to my boss at my day job to see if my schedule could shift. He said yes. God gets the golden hour at sunset on Saturday, I get to contribute to our early morning golden hour at my day job and then I will be on the courts after a short shift.
God first.
Family second.
Work third.
Tennis earns an honorable fourth.
Both teams are still on winning streaks, and if things continue to go well, we’ll have an opportunity to defend our state championship and move on to regional competition this summer. A win on Sunday locks in first place with one more match to go.
My greatest challenge right now is time. We also have big plans to travel to Europe in September, so I’m learning—again—to take things one day at a time.
I’m grateful they still let me onto the courts.
Grateful for understanding teammates and leadership.
Grateful for the ability to show up at all.
“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”
— Matthew 6:33
Bones: “Spock, even Starfleet officers don’t juggle this many schedules.”
Spock: “Doctor, prioritization reduces chaos. The captain’s logic is sound.”
Michael: I’m learning that when priorities are clear, decisions feel lighter—even when life is full.
Status: Season ongoing
Objective: Honor God, serve family, support the team
Lesson: Order creates peace
Thank you for walking alongside me.
May today unfold with clarity.
May your priorities bring you rest.
And may gratitude meet you wherever you pause.
🖖 Live long. Prosper in purpose. Walk boldly in divine love.
Stardate 01.27.2026
Last Saturday, my wife and I attended a church dinner alongside 65 other couples. The evening featured a marriage and family therapist who offered practical, deeply human insights into building stronger relationships.
I took notes—not because I felt behind, but because I wanted to remember what matters.
A few points stayed with me.
What men often need most is respect.
What women often need most is love.
What men tend to fear is failure.
What women tend to fear is abandonment.
The speaker illustrated this using an infinity symbol. One side represents the husband, the other the wife. At the top of each loop is behavior. At the bottom, emotion.
He also named what he called the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in marriage:
Criticism
Contempt
Stonewalling
Defensiveness
The first two are protests—cries for connection.
The latter two are shutdowns—protective strategies when connection feels unsafe.
To help couples stay off those horses, he offered a simple, practical communication tool—one designed to create emotional safety:
“I feel ___.”
“When you ___.”
“And I would like to ask you to please ___.”
It slows the moment down.
It keeps blame out of the room.
And it invites understanding before reaction.
That idea was reinforced by a timeless principle he closed with: seek first to understand before seeking to be understood.
Scripture gently echoes this wisdom:
“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”
— James 1:19
Bones: “You’re telling me marriage has warning signs, Spock?”
Spock: “Doctor, logic suggests recognizing patterns improves long-term outcomes.”
Michael: “Turns out listening might be the most underrated skill we have.”
Sitting there with my wife, listening together, reminded me that strong marriages aren’t built through grand gestures. They’re shaped in ordinary moments—through respect freely given, love intentionally shown, and conversations handled with care.
Small changes matter.
Gentle words matter.
Listening matters.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Status: Learning in real time
Objective: One percent better communication
Outcome: Hopeful and encouraged
I’m grateful for the couples who organized the evening, for the wisdom shared, and for the reminder that growth doesn’t require perfection—only willingness.
May today offer you patience where it’s needed,
Grace where it’s earned,
And understanding where it’s most desired.
🖖 Live long. Prosper in purpose. Walk boldly in divine love.
Stardate 01.26.2026
I’ll be the first to admit it—I despise deadlines.
Without them, I tend to drift. Good intentions pile up. Projects linger half-finished. And yet, oddly enough, deadlines are also what rescue me from that endless loop.
Over time, I’ve learned to soften my resistance by tying deadlines to something joyful. For me, that joy comes wrapped in green.
St. Patrick’s Day is my favorite day of the year.
This will be the third year in a row I’ve launched a project on that date, and this one is especially close to my heart—a new coloring book, illustrated by an artist whose heart, as the Grinch would say, is two sizes too big.
Helen, from my day job, quietly inspires everyone around her just by being who she is.
The book itself is finished.
What remains is preparing my little cyber house for a new family member.
You may have heard me call Substack my front porch. It’s also where I welcome readers inside with fresh-baked cyber cookies—one sent as a gift to new subscribers. If you joined before the automation was ready and missed yours, just let me know. I’m happy to bake another batch.
People sometimes ask how I manage projects like this.
The answer is simple: teamwork.
Helen completed every illustration by the end of the year, giving me the margin I needed to prepare the book well. That margin matters. It’s helping me become more faithful with time—one percent at a time.
That’s my commitment to you too. To keep learning. To keep showing up. To keep improving gently and honestly.
“One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much.”
— Luke 16:10
Bones: “Fifty days, Michael? That sounds uncomfortably close to a deadline.”
Spock: “Doctor, structured timelines increase the probability of mission success.”
Michael: I’m learning that deadlines don’t limit creativity—they give it somewhere to land.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
May today feel unrushed.
May your next small step feel manageable.
And may gratitude meet you wherever you pause to rest.
🖖 Live long. Prosper in purpose. Walk boldly in divine love.
Stardate 01.25.2026
Our team is hoping to keep our undefeated streak alive today in the 55+ league. The match takes place in Moline, just across the Mississippi River in Illinois. I’m up early for the drive, grateful for a clear morning, good health, and the chance to compete alongside teammates who’ve become friends.
There’s something grounding about early mornings like this. A quiet road. A clear purpose. A reminder that showing up still matters—no matter the score.
When I return home, I’ll be sharing more interviews from our travels to Hawaii. We met some remarkable people along the way, each with a story worth listening to. I’m looking forward to passing those moments along.
Scripture offers this encouragement:
“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9
🖖 Captain’s Addendum
Spock & Bones Banter
Spock: “Statistically speaking, Doctor, an undefeated streak increases pressure exponentially.”
Bones: “Pressure, Spock? He’s 55+, not fragile. Let the man enjoy the match.”
Michael’s Reflection
At this stage of life, the real victory isn’t the streak—it’s the opportunity to play at all. To move, to compete, to laugh, and to keep learning what my body and spirit are still capable of. I don’t take that lightly anymore.
Near the end of the road home, I’ll be back on the porch again—sharing stories, videos, and conversations that remind us we’re not walking alone.
Join me here: https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Mission Log
Status: Match day.
Objective: Show up fully.
Mindset: One percent better—win or lose.
Closing Reflection
Grateful today for movement, companionship, and another chance to step onto the court. May we all find joy in simply being able to play our part.
Stardate 01.24.2026
I almost blew my New Year's Eve family barbecue. For those of you who don’t know me, yes, I do barbecue year-round in almost all weather conditions — blizzards being the only exception. Cold temperatures used to feel like barriers I couldn’t overcome, but now I see them for what they are: just another challenge to embrace. In fact, winter barbecuing seems to bring out even more flavor in my steaks.
The challenge this year? More propane was required than usual with the subzero temperatures. During the first stage of grilling, the Weber suddenly went cold. I checked the propane — empty. I rushed for the backup tank — also empty. A quick stop at the local gas station came up short — closed early for the holiday. My last hope was the grocery store, and thankfully they had a refill available. Back home, I restarted the grill, hoping the delay wouldn’t dampen family time. Success! The steaks were fabulous.
Here’s the lesson I learned from the meat manager: budget-friendly cuts can still deliver amazing flavor. The “cap off” cut is nearly as tender as ribeye, and the choice grade offers the best value at $9.99 per pound. I usually cook two to three pounds at a time, even if it’s just for one or two people. This gives me enough for breakfast and dinner over several days, which fits my routine of only one or two meals a day. My family enjoys the grill marks I get with quarter-turn flips, and the cap off is quickly becoming a favorite.
Give it a try on your next barbecue — quality, flavor, and budget-friendly all in one. See the photos below from our family barbecue and note the quarter turn flip for my signature grill marks.
Scripture:
"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men." – Colossians 3:23
Captain’s Addendum:
Spock & Bones Banter:
Spock: “It is illogical to risk a New Year’s celebration over empty propane, Bones.”
Bones: “Logic, Spock? The steaks were nearly ruined! That’s reason enough for panic.”
Michael’s Reflection:
Sometimes, the small challenges — like a missing propane tank — remind us that persistence matters. Staying calm, problem-solving, and keeping our eyes on the goal (a delicious meal and good family time) can turn near disasters into defining moments.
Mission Log:
Milestone: Perfected the cap off cut for budget-friendly, flavorful barbecues.
Status: Success! Family satisfied.
Objective: Share this tip with readers and inspire confidence in embracing challenges.
Closing Reflection:
Gratitude for small wins makes a big difference. Take a moment today to celebrate the victories, no matter how simple, and invite joy into your life.
Stardate 01.23.2026
Do you ever wonder why we humans fight so much?
I have a feeling it often comes from something very simple: our desire to belong. No one wants to be left out — yet fitting in doesn’t always come easily.
As a kid, I was often the last one picked for sports. I was short, skinny, and not particularly athletic. At recess, I learned a survival strategy on the soccer field: I stationed myself near the goalpost. If the ball drifted my way, I could kick it in without moving more than a step or two. As Spock might say, “Highly efficient.”
While everyone else ran up and down the field building endurance, I was quite content guarding my little corner of the pitch.
That desire to belong doesn’t fade with age.
I once heard an interesting story from the set of Planet of the Apes. The actors didn’t have time to remove their ape makeup during lunch breaks. Over time, something curious happened — they began sitting with others wearing the same type of ape costume instead of their usual friends. Without intending to, they formed tribes.
We do the same thing.
In real life, we tend to congregate with people who think like us, worship like us, vote like us, or play the same sports we do. Even when we have friends across those lines, stepping outside our “tribe” can make others uncomfortable. One of my tennis teammates jokes that I sometimes go to the “dark side” when I play pickleball with my family. I happen to enjoy both — even though there’s a surprising amount of friction between those camps.
Over the next year, my quiet goal is to help bridge some of these gaps.
The closer I look at people with different viewpoints, the more I realize how much we actually share. We’re not as divided as we appear. Sometimes we just need the courage to see past the Planet of the Apes gear we’ve all learned to wear.
“For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body.”
— Romans 12:4–5
Bones: “Jim— I mean, Michael — you’re saying humans aren’t that different from apes in makeup?”
Spock: “Doctor, logic suggests costumes merely amplify what already exists beneath the surface.”
Michael: “That’s what I’m learning. When we stop defending our uniforms, we start recognizing each other as teammates.”
Thank you for walking alongside me as I learn — slowly, imperfectly — how to listen more and label less. My hope is that this reflection encourages you to notice where quiet bridges might already be forming in your own life.
🖖 Live long. Prosper in purpose. Walk boldly in divine love.
Stardate 01.22.2026
Six thousand days.
Six thousand stories.
Six thousand small steps in a marathon only God could have mapped out.
Today is more than a milestone — it’s a moment I never imagined reaching. Sixteen years of showing up. Often quietly. Often in the wilderness. Often with nothing more than a gentle nudge from God whispering, Keep going, Michael.
Some thought I was out of my mind to stay with this for so long. But every story, every struggle, every lesson — they carried me here. And today, I’m peeling back the final layer of the onion to share something that has always been part of me, but rarely spoken aloud.
If you’ve followed this journey, you know I never set out to be a writer. As a boy, I watched my dad face rejection after rejection. He had the talent, the education, the discipline — and still, the world didn’t open the doors he hoped for.
Watching that made writing feel dangerous. Like stepping onto ground that had already burned my family once.
That tension lingered between us for decades.
And then one morning… I woke up and started typing.
I learned to use all my fingers.
I learned social media.
I learned how to share my heart without losing my peace.
And slowly, one imperfect step at a time, this unexpected calling began to shape me.
My relationship with Jesus is stronger now than it’s ever been.
One day I asked Him, “Show me who I am in Your eyes.”
What He showed me wasn’t flattering.
But it was true.
And it was freeing.
I began to see how much of my life had been shaped by forces I didn’t fully understand — anger, fear, loneliness, self-reliance. Battles many of us carry quietly. Jesus didn’t reveal those things to shame me. He revealed them so He could heal me.
That healing led me back to where my story began.
I was raised Catholic. I drifted for years — mostly because I was angry with God. Then I met my wife. Her quiet devotion softened something in me. Worshiping beside her felt like coming home.
Today, I want to say something clearly — and gently.
I am Catholic.
And I believe deeply that every one of us belongs to God’s family no matter what label we choose to describe our particular denomination or flavor of worship.
You don’t have to agree with me. I’m not here to convert anyone. Many of my closest friends worship in traditions different from my own, and I’m grateful for what they’ve taught me. A few aren't even sure there is a God. All people are welcome here. This space has always been about something bigger than labels. It's bigger than the fences we build around us. Perhaps that's why I was so drawn into Star Trek as a young boy watching people from the ends of the earth coming together for one purpose.
It’s about love.
And love makes room.
That spirit will guide the next chapter of these stories.
Your encouragement. Your presence. Your willingness to walk alongside me — it means more than I can say.
Today isn’t just my celebration.
It’s ours.
And if you’re wondering what comes next, I can promise you this:
We’re just getting started.
May you live long and prosper.
Have a great day.
Bones: Six thousand logs… Michael, remind me again why we’re not retired on some warm beach by now?
Spock: Doctor, your fixation on beaches continues to defy logic. This milestone is the predictable outcome of discipline and consistency.
Bones: Consistency? He’s running on stubbornness and whatever coffee he finds nearby.
Spock: And yet, Doctor, his method has proven effective.
Bones: (softening) All right… six thousand is no small feat. Just don’t tell him I said that.
Spock: Your attempt at secrecy is… statistically unlikely.
Michael’s Reflection:
Their banter makes me smile because they’re both right. This milestone wasn’t built on perfection. It was built on showing up — with grace, humility, and a willingness to grow one percent at a time.
“Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
— Philippians 1:6
Milestone: 6,000 consecutive blog entries
Status: Grateful. Grounded. Hopeful
Objective: Continue uplifting hearts, sharing truth, and walking boldly in divine love
Thank you for celebrating this moment with me. May it stir something quiet and hopeful in your own heart — and may God meet you gently in whatever chapter you’re walking through next.
Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
