An excerpt from her book Lipstick Grace: Glimpses of Life, Love, and the Quest for the Perfect Lip Gloss

When my daughters were younger and Mother's Day would come around, every year they would ask the same question: "Mom, what do you want?" And every year I would give the same answer: " I want you to make your beds every day, keep your rooms clean, and be nice to your sister." Then they would laugh and say "No, Mom -- what do you really want?"

My theory is that mothers never get what they really want for Mother's Day. My mom always asked for a shower cap, and my grandmother always asked for a wallet. They got perfume and bath oil. Once I polled some friends about what they really wanted for Mother's Day. One stared blankly and said, "An entire day without hearing, 'Buy me, drive me, fix me, get me, or give me." Another said, "To have someboday else put the toilet paper on the roll." Other women asked that their favorite hairbrush not be used on the dog, their eyeliner pencil not be used for homework, and their good washcloths not be used to wipe out the fish tank.

Mothers never get what they really want.

Maybe it's because we want the impossible. We want a baby and we want to sleep. We want healthy toddlers and couches that aren't smeared with graham cracker slobber. We want active teenagers and sanity. We want well-adjusted adult children who move out of the house (and stay out), and we want them to be our babies again.

Last Mother's Day was my first as a grandmother. This Mother's Day will be my last with a child at home. By the end of this month, my youngest daughter will be moving to North Carolina to finish school and start life as an adult. She had a practice run for a few months last year when she moved out, but it didn't "take."

This time she'll be five hundred miles away, not fifteen.

It's what I want for her -- autonomy, independence, new horizons, new opportunities. But I also want her three years old again, wearing that blue dress with the big white collar and bright pink bow and her dirty high-top sneakers, tugging my arm and asking for a "jinka juice."

I'd settle for her not leaving her shoes in the kitchen for me to trip over -- even just for one day!

Like I said, moms want the impossible.

That's okay, because nothing is impossible with God. So with that thought, here's my Mother's Day want list. It's what I really want, not for myself, but for my daughters:

Alison and Laura, above all, I want you o know that you are loved. Your dad and I love you imperfectly, but you have a Father in heaven who loves you perfectly. We have and will disappoint you, but God never will. I want you to know that deeply and intimately.

I want you to be fulfilled in your life. To find somethings that gives you purpose and meaning, Something that as you do it you can say, "This is why I was created!"

I want you to sleep well at night -- to live with a clear conscience and without guilt. No worries because you know that God has you firmly in His grip.

I want you to laugh heartily. I want you to sing and dance and play.

I want you to live in grace, no obligation. I want you to experience worship, not drag yourself to church because it makes Mom happy. I want you to know that belonging to Jesus is a good thing, not a burden.

And, even though you are far away, what I really, really want...I want you to make your beds every day, keep your rooms clean -- and be nice to your sister.