Last Monday night, some of my new friends asked me if I was missing Waco. I replied, "I love people there so much that I could get really sad, but I'm not going to let myself. I'm done with being sad for awhile."

Tonight, I'm back in Texas after going to two funerals in Mississippi over the weekend. A friend of mine from college was killed in a car accident last Tuesday. She was 27. On the way to her funeral, I learned that our favorite neighbor and cousin in Kossuth had passed away. He was 65.

It seems like somehow I should be able to piece all these losses together and give you some amazing life lesson learned, but I don't know that I can. It also feels like I should still be in the bed with a box of tissues, but I'm not. Sometimes I worry that I haven't cried or screamed enough. It reminds me of this scene from the YaYa Sisterhood when Sandra Bullock asks her dad, James Garner if he was loved enough. He replies, "What's enough?"

How much grief is enough? Does the degree or volume of tears, screams, and anger express how much you love someone? Of course I know the answer is no. We all deal with loss in our own ways- sometimes privately and sometimes publicly. But why do we feel like it's never enough? Maybe we try to make grief legalistic, or maybe it's just that when you truly love someone, you do your best to express it yet it never seems totally adequate. Eventually, you simply have faith that they know. It seems to me that both loving and grieving well take faith even though there may only be a hint at times. Faith in others to recognize and accept it and faith in your own ability to express it and faith in God without whom we would never know or feel it.