Sally and Adrian Harnett waited seven years for their first child.
They called her Rachel Joy. Last month, aged 3[1/2], Rachel died of
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.
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