How a lifetime of quiet faithfulness comes full circle for L.C. & Betty McGee
After 74 years of marriage, Betty McGee now lives at Trinity alongside her husband, L.C.—the same community she supported faithfully for decades. These days, much of her time is spent watching others care for him.
“I wish I could do more.” she admits softly, and yet, in the same breath, she adds, “He’s in good hands.” But to understand Betty’s story, you have to go back to the beginning.
“Old age is not for sissies,” Betty McGee says with a quiet smile.
A Faith That Started Small
Betty did not set out to live a “generous life.” She simply lived the life she was shown. One of her earliest memories is of a small jar in her family’s kitchen cabinet.
“My daddy kept a tithe jar,” she says. “He would put money in it from his weekly pay, and on Sundays, we’d take from it to give at church.“
That weekly routine was enough to shape herunderstanding and views on giving back. There was no recognition attached to it. No sense that it was anything unusual. Just a quiet understanding that what she had was to be used for God.
Showing Up, Year After Year
Years later, while working as a secretary at the Social Security office, Betty began typing letters to Methodist Senior Services for her boss. Through those letters, she became familiar with its mission and ministry. That connection led her to serve on the board during Trinity’s early days. She helped in the ways she knew how—taking notes, staying organized, paying attention.
“Not only did you need money,” she recalls, “you needed services.”
And so she gave both.
A Life That Doesn’t Ask for Attention
Even after her board service ended, Betty kept showing up. She and L.C. began helping with birthday celebrations in assisted living. What started as one cake each month quickly turned into two.
“He’d say he got up at four in the morning to bake them,” she laughs.
But the cakes weren’t really the point. “It was just something we did,” she says. What mattered most was that they stayed, they visited and they served.
They did not have a lot of money over the years. But they gave consistently—of their time, their attention, their resources—because that is how they had learned to live.
“I never really thought about it as generosity,” Betty says. “It was just… part of life.”
When the Story Comes Full Circle
Now, that same ministry is caring for them.
“It’s been very difficult,” she says of watching others tend to L.C. “But it’s good that Trinity is here—and that we can take advantage of it.”
Even now, her posture has not changed. She meets this season the same way she’s met every other—with quiet faith and a willingness to accept what comes.
“People ask me if I like living here,” she says. “And I tell them—I intend to like it. What is not to like? This is what we have chosen.“
What Betty may not say out loud—but what her life makes clear—is this: The care she is receiving today did not appear overnight. It was built—over years—by people who simply chose to give. People just like her.
A Legacy She Wouldn’t Name
When asked how she hopes to be remembered, Betty hesitates. “I do not know… maybe as a good influence.”
She does not say more than that. But those who have walked closely with her over the years would agree with that statement.
Her longtime friend, John East—who still helps take her and L.C. to appointments—has seen it up close. The way she notices people. The way she quietly steps in. The way she gives without ever drawing attention to herself.
He says Betty never would seek attention. “She has spent a lifetime putting others ahead of herself. Her generosity of time, of care, and spirit has shaped the people around her.“
“Anyone who has known her has been better for it.“ ~ John East
An Invitation
And in many ways, that is her legacy.
Not something she set out to build.
Just a life lived faithfully, one small act at a time.
Because of friends like Betty and L.C., Trinity exists today as a place of compassion, dignity, and care—for them, and for so many others.
And because of continued generosity, that care will be there for the next person who needs it.
When asked what she would say to someone who wants to make a difference, Betty smiles and keeps it simple:
“Try it,” she says. “You might like it.”
