An extract from a delegate's diary

Everything dry this morning! Rather missed the usual laundrette trip. Nearly went anyway... Asked Anne this afternoon if she'd enjoyed it all. She said, "Oh yes. Despite everything, it's good to be among the people who are doing their best to do what God tells them. We're a funny old crowd though aren't we?"

"Yes, I thought we certainly are that."

Silently asked God to show me what really mattered in His strange world of tents and caravans, and Big tops blowing down, and Celebrations and Christians and cold water and fowl weather. As I opened my eyes, a figure passed our tent on the road. It carried a huge wooden mallet. The walk was a plodding, weary one. The young man was dishevelled and grimy. He'd probably been up for the last 24 hours at least, working all night in the wind and rain to save some of the marques and tents. There was the faintest of nightlights still shining in his eyes as he walked.

Somehow I Knew the weather would never quite put that light out. "There you are" God seemed to say, "That's what it's all about." It was a steward!