Rachel's gone but JOY remains

meningitis. How have the Harnetts coped with their tragic loss? Anne

Johnstone, a family friend, speaks to them about their Christian faith

and how, in the words of a favourite hymn, it has given them ''strength

for today and bright hope for tomorrow.''

HOW can you believe in God when little children die? We've all heard

that one. None of us would like to put it to the test.

In the Blane Valley we hug our little ones tight these nights and pray

we'll get to see them grow. And we try not to dwell too much on the gap

in the playgroup, the dancing class, the Sunday School, occupied barely

three weeks ago by little Rachel Harnett.

One Thursday, this peaceful, gentle, three-year-old was dancing

Ring-O-Roses in the village hall. The next day she was enjoying nursery

school. By Saturday night she was dead, victim of the virulent strain of

bacterial meningitis.

In the days since we lost Rachel, stories have spread around the area

of the extraordinary response of her parents to their loss; their

appearance in their usual places at Strathblane Parish Church barely 12

hours after her death; their attention to detail in dealing with various

practicalities the following week; the father's powerful and poignant

tribute to his daughter and his God at her funeral, an event they

largely organised and structured to make it a very special thanksgiving

for their little girl.

Those at one removed from Adrian and Sally Harnett are dismissive:

''It hasn't hit them yet. They'd be better breaking down. They ought to

be angry.''

But those who are close have seen God at work in an extraordinarily

powerful way. One non-Christian who attended Rachel's funeral said

later: ''If this is what faith does for you, I want it.'' In a situation

in which others have seen their faith collapse, the Harnetts say theirs

has been considerably strengthened.

They always were an impressive couple. Adrian, whose youthful looks

and reedy voice make him seem far too young to be a consultant

oncologist. Before moving to Scotland two years ago he was nvolved in

the care of young children with cancer at Great Ormond Street Hospital

in London. And Sally, a medical physicist turned infuriatingly competent

mum, who had Rachel and Katie (now 21 months old) out of nappies before

they walked and whose whispered: ''Don't do that, poppet,'' seemed to

secure instant compliance. They are obviously very much in love. But how

often have you seen serious cracks appear in apparently ''super

marriages'' at the first hint of trouble?

The term ''Christian fortitude'' is easily misunderstood. Some of

those who witness it think Christians don't suffer the way others do.

That's not true. As their minister, the Rev. Alex Fleming, no stranger

to fortitude himself, observed at Rachel's funeral: ''We have no special

insulation as Christians that removes us from the barbs of life, no

invisible wall that keeps us safe in a fallen world where pain, grief

and death are our human lot.''

Oh yes. The Harnetts have been learning all about the pain of

separation since January 27 and there have been plenty of tears. Adrian

told the mourners: ''The following day, Sunday, was a beautiful day. The

snow still covered our garden and the hills. The sky was blue and the

sun shone. It was a fresh new start but a day of much sadness. Through

the day we watched as Rachel's footprints in the snow in our garden

slowly melted away.''

They feel their loss especially keenly when they see other

three-year-olds running and jumping into their parents arms.

But anyone who expected Sally and Adrian's grief to spill over into

anger and recrimination against a God who had apparently let them down,

isn't on the same wavelength.

Of course, there were black moments, moments when little things seemed

to add to their almost unbearable burden: problems with their car and

central heating, thoughtless or malign remarks, the inaccuracies and

alarmism of the accounts of Rachel's death in the newspapers. Our own

news story, for want of better information, quoted an unnamed colleague

of Adrian's as saying: ''He is absolutely distraught.'' Well, he wasn't.

He hesitates to use the term Satan, but Adrian says each of these

incidents and many others seemed to them like some dark force trying to

gain a foothold in their stricken lives, tempting them to break down

completely and cause still further turmoil. But they have felt God

strengthen them through these difficulties and bless them.

From the start of their ordeal both of them experienced a sort of

uplifting joy and thankfulness for Rachel that is very hard to explain

to non-believers.

They talk about a tide of prayer from as far afield as Ethiopia

bearing them up. They talk about finding exactly what they needed when

they turned to the Bible for comfort. And they talk about lashings of

hugs, tears, letters, flowers and baking from a host of sympathisers.

But to truly appreciate their feelings and responses, you must go back

to the very beginning of Rachel. The Harnetts' former parish minister,

the Rev. Peter Templeman of Finchley, who christened Rachel, spoke at

her funeral with biblical eloquence about her conception at a time when

God's word spoke very clearly to this couple: ''God's hand right from

the beginning was upon Adrian and upon Sally and upon the child that was

to be born. I had more of a sense that Rachel was God's gift to Adrian

and Sally than any other baby that I've met or any other child that I've

known.''

In his own address at the funeral, Adrian takes up the story: ''We

were given the most wonderful gift -- Rachel -- a gift to parents who

thought after seven years that they could not or would not have

children.'' The name comes from the Hebrew for Ewe, a symbol of

innocence and gentleness, an astonishingly appropriate choice in

retrospect. Her middle name was Joy, a reminder of their response to

this precious gift.

Then, as if sensing our thoughts, he goes on: ''She was no angel and

we were no perfect parents. But God chose and sent us a real good 'un.

And nurtured with our love and care, she fully blossomed in just 3[1/2]

years.'' Then he tells a revealing story: ''Last term at nursery school,

Rachel planted a bulb and recently she has been watching it in her room

as the shoot pierced the earth and grew. And then Rachel died but the

plant is still there and this week we've been excited. It didn't flower

yesterday. It flowered today.'' He proceeds to hold up a little pot

containing a single blue crocus.

To other parents that flower could have been too harrowing a reminder

of their loss. To the Harnetts it was, in the words of a friend, ''a

lovely sign from the Lord of his care and love.''

Mr Fleming catches the same flavour in his prayer of thanks for

Rachel's ''brief yet lovely life'' and his address, based on the text 2

Corinthians 4, verses 8 and 9: ''We are hard pressed on every side but

not crushed, perplexed but not in despair, persecuted but not abandoned,

struck down but not destroyed.''

Though he freely admits that Rachel's death is the hardest thing he's

ever dealt with in his ministry, he reminds the congregation that

Christ's Gospel is about: ''Light banishing despair, of joy breaking

through to surprise us all.''

Suddenly I feel privileged at having known someone who died after

sinning so little. I cherish memories of her playing with my own

daughter and especially of them blowing bubbles in our garden one

dazzling spring morning last year.

One of the features of these weeks is the way that Sally and Adrian

have comforted those who have felt crushed and broken by Rachel's death.

Those who have summed up courage to ring their doorbell have come away

saying: ''They made me feel better about it.'' As Sally says: ''Rachel

is no longer here but we can still love her.''

At the funeral her father felt most for those who ''suffer without

hope''. For them he explained his perspective in the clearest possible

terms: ''Her life here was complete and we are grateful that she has

been spared a longer and more testing life. Now the Lord has taken her

and we have been left with so much love, joy and happiness.''

For the Harnetts, Rachel may have gone but JOY remains.