Remember the James Bond movie called, "The World is Not Enough"? I think it was the one with the explosions, beautiful women, fast cars and double agents. Or was that the other 007 movie? This one was playing on cable this Sunday but I didn't get a chance to watch it. However, the title has stayed in my head all week. The world is not enough.

No kidding. This world is nowhere near enough. We are dissatisfied and we know it. We ache for something more. We're not sure what that "more" is, so, like Bond, we try grand adventures. We have affairs, spend more than we make, quit jobs, abandon friendships, drink too much, sleep too little...and still, it's not enough. It's never enough.

The textbook of wild living is Solomon's journal, otherwise known as Ecclesiastes. He tells the rather pathetic tale of a guy who tries wine, women and song, and finds them all lacking. He tries work. He tries not working. He tries spending money. He tries saving money. You name it, Solomon tries it. He tries it all. At many points, in frustration, he cries out, "Meaningless, meaningless, it's all meaningless."

Truer words were never spoken. It's a deep scriptural Truth that this world is not enough. We were fitted for eternity. Ecclesiastes 3:10-11 says, "God has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

He has set eternity in our hearts, like a microchip. He made us for forever. Ever have the sense that you are just passing through? You are. Don't understand how exactly it all works out? That was programmed in, too. We can't fathom. God, in His wisdom, did not give us the complete understanding of how it fits together. We just know, like Bond and like Solomon, that we were made for something bigger.

So take heart. This world is not your permanent home. Your sense that this is not enough is completely correct. What you see around you right now may not be beautiful...yet. But it will be utterly beautiful in its time.

Several times I've noticed how I have a habit of driving with a nasty schmear on my windshield. It's there, front and center, and yet I don't bother cleaning it off. Sometimes I drive like that for long trips. Every 27 seconds I silently curse the schmear. Sometimes the schmear is on the inside of the glass and it would only take a second to clean it off.

I asked the Lord what He was trying to teach me about the Schmear on my Windshield. Why do I focus on it? Why do I leave it there?

I think it's that I am so focused on the mess/imperfection/distraction. It becomes my whole world. It's literally what I stare at...instead of the beauty beyond the glass. I have a wide window to the world, yet I resentfully stare at the schmear.

Do you do that? It's a distinctly human characteristic. When my kids dress for church, I notice the breakfast on their shirt. I notice the rip under the collar. The schmears. They make me nuts. When the mail comes, I am dragged down by the bills. When school is starting, I'm sad that summer is over. During the Olympics, a gymnast does a near-perfect routine, but hops as she lands. The commentors are delighted to point out the error, the schmear.

Faith requires a different response. It's believing what we do not see, instead of focusing on the bird poop we do see. It's asking us to look beyond our present mess into the big beautiful world. We may not be able to see the big picture clearly, but we can look beyond the everyday distraction to what is beyond. We have to try!

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

From today forward, I am not going to focus on the schmear. I'm going to focus on what I do not yet see, and drive contentedly in that direction. How about you?

As seen in the August 2008 issue of Bella Magazine

I just changed my 1 zillionth roll of toilet paper since summer began. No exaggeration. There are 7 bums in my family. Yes, I meant bums and not one of them can stoop to conquer the toilet roll replacement. This steams my corn, if you know what I mean.

I am especially bothered by the non-roll replacement when I notice too late. Naturally, no one has refilled the tissue box, either. Can you hear my yelling for some aid? Right, no one in my house hears my desperate cries, either.

This type of non-help is especially aggravating to me during the lazy, hazy days of summer. You would think having five kids out of school would be sort of like having a small legion of household help. You would think. Sadly, I have observed that the opposite is true.

They seem to think I am here to serve them. They eat in the family room within hours of Stanley Steemer leaving us a $300 bill for carpet cleaning. They unabashedly leave evidence of their midnight snacks. They expect me to believe that every night, a bunch of starving sprites invade our home and leave ice cream dishes, chip wrappers, and empty soda cans bandied about willy nilly. When I come downstairs in the morning, I am cheerful….for about ninety seconds. Before I can sit down for my daily Bible reading, I am sidetracked by the Mardi Gras like mess left from the night before. I am usually yelling at someone -- anyone -- before I’ve had my first cup of coffee for the day.

Welcome to my world. It’s a mess. Someone left remnants of Cookies’n’Cream ice cream in the downstairs lavatory the other day. It’s not just that they are sloppy kids. It’s just that come summertime, they turn into horrible roommates.

I have been training these kids to be tidy cooperators since they were two years old. The lessons to flush, rinse and pick up after themselves should be deeply entrenched in their psyche by now. You would think. But something about summer makes my little lovelies act like they are on a Carnival Cruise Ship and I am the cabin attendant. No wonder Mommy’s on the warpath.

Now, if I ever turned the column over to my children, no doubt a different story would emerge. They have told me multiple times that they do more chores than the rest of the neighbor’s kids combined. (“You’ll thank me one day,“ I crow.) Recently, a friend came to visit with her husband and four children in tow. The conversation turned to a chore comparison. “Do you guys do the dishes? Vacuum? Dust? Do your own laundry?“ my kids asked hers. They answered every query to the negative. “No way!,“ they said confidently, “our mother does all that at our house.“

“Not here!“ my child responded. “We do EVERYTHING! Our parents don’t do ANYTHING.“

Keep laughing. Just be warned. If you want to use the bathroom at our house during the summer, you should bring your own paper. It’s true that for nine months of the year, there is some semblance of order around here. I think it’s because when they are in school, I expect to do more than my fair share. But when they are the computer playing World of Warcraft for six hours a day, I don’t think a roll replacement is asking too much. If they would just put some of the effort they pour into their Facebook pages, we’d all get along just fine. I’m asking you….is a little summer help asking too much?

I am inspired to keep training these Byrd to keep their nests tidy. You see, I don’t want them to turn out like my friend Beckie. Beckie never had to do any chores while growing up. She went to college and graduated, chore-free. While living in her first apartment, Beckie was horrified to find black mold growing in her toilet. She called the Water Department in her town, and told them there was something wrong with her water. After a series of questions, they deduced the real problem. “Ma’m, have you cleaned your toilet lately?” they inquired. The Water Department Supervisor then went on to describe to Beckie how to properly and frequently clean her toilet so black mold wouldn’t grow.

This story has been my inspiration. I may yell, cajole, insult and even drip-dry, but by golly, these kids will learn how to be consummate toilet-cleaners before they leave my house. Just give me a few more years with them and they’ll learn their role regarding rolls. By then, auto-refill, auto-flush toilets should hit the home market. Sigh…heaven.

Martie and her husband Dave, the role-model, are raising five teens and pre-teens in beautiful Roanoke, Virginia. Martie would enjoying speaking to your small group or organization.