"Hope for the best, and then do what it takes to make that a reality." When I heard that sentence I began to think about the meaning of the words. I really began to focus on what "the best" means and I decided it's a matter of perception.  What's best for me may not be what's best for you. What I think may bring me the greatest happiness may be what you consider to be one of your greatest fears. For example, for you "the best" might mean getting a job where you appear before the public and for me that same job would be "the worst" if I disliked speaking in public. It's a matter of perception and no two people see the same situation 100% the same way. We bring to each situation our hopes, our dreams and our fears. Because we're so different, we can't tell another person what's best for them. We truly don't know. We haven't lived their experiences nor do we know their life path. We can only really know what we think is best for us and even then we're only seeing an event from a limited perspective; we don't always see the bigger picture of our life and the role the event plays in the larger scheme of things.

I'm learning that one of the best things I can do for my friends and family is just to listen to them, without trying to fix them. They're not broken; they're just going through learning experiences and seeing things from their own point of view. If I feel a need to make it better for them, I need to look at what's been triggered within me. Which of my own emotions has come to the surface for me to experience and I need to determine if I'm trying to make myself feel better by solving another's dilemma? Am I being altruistic or am I really being selfish? There's no single answer; everything is situational.

When she was close to 90, my mother had triple by-pass surgery. Her stay in the hospital and subsequent physical therapy gave me more insight into the meaning of hope and what's "for the best."

My mother, my sister and I experienced feelings associated with the "surprise" medical procedure  and not all of the feelings were the same. As much as I wanted my mother to recover and to be happy, it was up to her – she had to have the will to live. I couldn't take the actions necessary for her recovery. I couldn't eat for her, exercise for her, take her medication or keep her doctor's appointments. I could only send her love, ask her what she needed from me, give her an opportunity to talk about what she' was feeling, if she so chose, and turn the situation over to God. My mother had to be in control of her own life and to do what was best for her, even if those actions and choices made me uncomfortable. I told my mother my feelings and offered my opinion, if asked, but I didn't have a right to change my mother's choices just because I didn't like the feelings they stirred in me.

My sister and I had different ways of handling the emotions triggered by my mom's illness. I talked about it with people and felt all my emotions. My sister wanted to control the amount of feelings that she had to process at any point in time. Feelings were sometimes too overwhelming for her and it felt safer for her to experience them in controlled amounts. Neither of our ways of coping was best for the other; they were only what worked best for us at a given point in time. And even what worked best for us changed as we continued on our path of personal development and spirituality.

What was and continues to be best for me is not to take my sister's actions or in-actions personally and to allow her to do things her own way rather than trying to change her to my way of being because I think it's best. I just need to let her be her authentic self at the same time that I allow myself to be true to my authentic self.

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I think the same is true for the meaning of the word best. Sometimes what's best is to just observe what's going on internally and externally. Looking at things from a different perspective may be all that's necessary to begin to improve a situation. It gives me hope.