Along the Mandeville lakefront at dusk, a Brown Pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis) skims low over the water, wingtips catching the day's last gold light. Flying parallel to shore, barely off the surface, it moves with a quiet economy of effort, each wingbeat carrying it forward without wasted motion. There's something of faith in that low, steady flight, a trust in what holds it up though it cannot see the wind beneath its wings. Strength doesn't always announce itself. Sometimes it simply moves forward, carried by a power greater than itself, faith the assurance of things unseen, hope the quiet confidence that we are held.
