How powerful is love?

"We were dirt poor when we were married," Clara said. It was my first pastoral visit to her and Pete's home. "We were high school sweethearts. We didn't have money for flowers or anything, so we were married in the pastor's living room."

She smiled at Pete, who served us tea and cookies.

"Sixty-four years," she said. "Every morning he still brings me coffee in bed."

Their living room walls were filled with photos of their five children, nine grandchildren and two great-grands. Clara's gallery of joys: baby photos, camp and sports photos, graduation and wedding shots.

But Clara and Pete were growing weaker, less able to care for each other in their own home. Soon they moved to an assisted living facility.

It was a pleasant place, clean and light-filled. The staff were kind, and many had known the residents all their lives.

Pete and Clara had a large, sunny room with some of their own furniture. Every morning Pete brought Clara coffee in bed.

Less than a year later, Clara's heart stopped. Pete was heartbroken.

I handled the funeral and Pete worked with me to make everything just right.

Then Pete started waiting for Clara at the main entrance. When I visited he'd say, "Clara took the car downtown. It needs work and I told her not to drive it. Now I'm afraid something's happened to her. Have you seen her?"

At Christmas time he said that Clara put up all the strings of lights. "Didn't she do a great job? She was right here but I don't know where she's gone. Have you seen her?"

He began wandering away from the grounds, searching for Clara. Thus he entered the Alzheimer's ward.

Before long Pete didn't remember me. Then he didn't remember his children. He mumbled incessantly. "He's talking to Clara," an aide said.

At midnight a few weeks later, Pete's son called. "Dad's going," he said. "Please come."

I arrived within 20 minutes. As I entered, Pete looked at me and murmured, "Pastor." Pete, his children and I held hands and prayed. Then I stepped back and his children surrounded him again.

After he was gone we stayed so Pete's children and grandchildren could each say a personal goodbye. As they filed out, a mortuary employee I knew came in.

I helped her move Pete from his bed to the cart, into the transport bag.

It was a grace-filled moment. I witnessed the end of a life so brimming with love that not even the ravages of Alzheimer's could make Pete forget Clara. They taught me that love is stronger than Alzheimer's, more powerful than death.

Seek and you will find, Jesus tells us. Matt. 6:33. Knock and the door will open. Rev. 3:20.

Love is the search, the door and the means to open the door.

Pete and Clara are together now, I believe, forever united in God's eternal circle of love.

The circle is for all of us. Pete and Clara's love shows the way.

Joan Uda is a retired United Methodist minister who lives in Helena joanuda@yahoo.com.