“They were happy people,” our guide says as she stands in the open doorway, following our tour of the beauty-filled and welcoming Bellingrath House. “You can tell. It’s a happy place.” “They” were Walter and Essie Bellingrath, who left their home to be a museum of beautiful things, and their estate to be a public garden.

I thought about our guide’s words as my husband and I strolled through the remainder of Bellingraph Gardens, 65 acres of serene and beautiful landscaping overlooking the Fowl River in southern Alabama.

Would you have called the Bellingraths happy if you knew only the following details about them? She studied art but had to get a job as a stenographer to support herself. They were not able to have children. He worked so hard that it imperiled his health, and his doctor ordered him to get some work-life balance. She got cancer in her early 60s, and died of a heart attack at age 64. Would you call these happy people if that was all you knew about them?

And yet, from what I hear, they were indeed happy people, as giving people generally are. Bessie used her background in and love of art to make one of the most beautiful gardens in America. And from the beginning, way back in 1932, she insisted that Bellingraph Gardens be shared with the public. 

Bessie also loved fine antiques. She filled her home with priceless china and silver and porcelain, telling everyone she purchased from that someday these objects would be put on display for all to see. 

Bessie combined her love of beauty with an extraordinarily-giving spirit. And tact. When local families fell upon hard times, she would show up with her checkbook. She would tell the homeowner that that plant blooming in their yard was a rare specimen that she must have for Bellingrath Gardens, and pay them hundreds of dollars for it. Once, she paid $100 apiece (a small fortune in those days) for 12 handmade afghans, knowing that the money would send a niece to college for a year. Other places, she paid high prices for family heirlooms “to be picked up later.” But as they drove away, she would instruct her staff to never go back and pick up items she had just paid for. 

When Bessie learned that one of her employees lived in town and had no way of getting to her estate every morning, she gave him a new car. And she quietly arranged with Catholic Providence infirmary in Mobile to provide fresh flowers every week for patients who did not have family or friends to send them flowers. 

Her husband Walter was a giving person also, who said that he wanted to leave the world a better place for his having lived in it. After Bessie died, Walter spent the rest of his life ensuring that her beautiful gardens would be saved for posterity. He took his talent for making and managing money and created a foundation that today supports not only Bellingrath Gardens, but two churches and three colleges.

I left Bellingrath Gardens thinking about Walter and Bessie Bellingrath. Two lives, well lived. 

Which led me to thinking: Do I look past the circumstances in my life that might derail me into self-pity? Do I choose to be happy? Do I use my gifts and talents to make something beautiful for the world? And, most importantly, what legacy of loving-kindness will I leave behind?