Imagine yourself walking across the park. You are happy, free as the wind, the sun is shining, you feel the love of the Lord is within you. Suddenly, there is a loud noise and people are running towards you shouting, hands are around you and someone is crying, and your peace is shattered by pain and tears. You don't know it yet, but you have just walked onto a land mine and the legs which carried you into its domain will not be carrying you anymore.

Part of a story? Yes, but one that is very real to many people of the world and I came face to face with such a reality on the recent visit I made to Croatia taking aid to refugees. It wasn't that I was in an area which was particularly infested with such atrocities, but it was an environment which had witnessed tragedy, and, through land mines, could possibly do so again.

It was the third day of our visit and we were in a village called Lasinja. The journey to the village showed us the effects of weaponry, the collapsed bridge across the river (we used the army built version), bullet holes in buildings, a gaping hole in another caused by a tank shell, the destruction of the church and other buildings. I walked towards the shell of the new church and saw where the various sections would be, only at the moment open to the blue skies above. I moved to the rear and saw the beautiful Croatian countryside beckoning. "A great place for a picture", I thought.

I moved forward across some rubble to the open grassland beyond. Wait a minute! Are there land mines here? An instant reality check! A few moments later I realised that there couldn't be, but I retreated back the way I came anyway. I walked towards one of my colleagues and we both moved towards the remains of the church, surrounded by lawn. We discussed the land mine issue and I walked across the lawn, with not a little trepidation, while she decided to sit on the wall. "No land mines this side of the village", I was told, "but there are two fields on the other side which haven't been cleared. Yesterday, two children from a different part of the country were injured when they stepped on one. When we came here after the area was reclaimed, Father Bradica couldn't even find his house, he just couldn't find it, not even to the extent of where it might have been."

The person who is telling me this is Ljubica Ljubic, a tireless worker. It was she who crossed the river with Father Bradica and witnessed the devastation of the village, and it is some of her energy, although she would be the first to admit that she has not worked nearly as hard as the good Father, which has helped to return the bulk of the village into new buildings and new hope.

We had taken about 14 tonnes of aid to Zagreb which had been distributed amongst the refugee camps within and surrounding the city, as well as a hospital for young patients with awful disabilities and deformities, whose parents felt they could not cope with the day to day requirements of caring for such children.

Many of the refugee camps follow a similar pattern. Former barracks with rooms which measure approximately 12 feet x 12 feet (16 sq m), each of which contain either single people or families, although some families do have the luxury of having two rooms. Not too much room for a mother, father and perhaps two children.

At first glance and simple inquiry, the barracks do not look too bad. Hot running water and central heating make some comfort, but as you look closer, what at first appears to be a not too terrible life, starts to pale into insignificance when the possibility of staying in such a place increases from just a few weeks or months to, in many cases, five or even six years. Imagine existing in such conditions in the knowledge that the area in which you used to live is either still destroyed or even occupied by foreign forces. The chances of you maintaining optimism under such conditions is difficult indeed. The home that you knew may never be visited again.

We distributed food packs, toiletries, bleach, nappies and medical equipment to wherever it was needed, moving from one camp, with only six families living in three 'barracks', to another which, in 'sheds' built by Swedes, where up to three hundred and fifty families resided. The latter barracks is close to the village I mentioned earlier, where together with the Swedish erected buildings is also the most beautiful wooden church.

The joy of seeing the faces of the people as they receive either basic essentials or a little luxury was worth the 2,500 mile (4,000 kilometre) round trip on its own, but the most distressing visit we made was to the children's hospital at Goryna Bistra.

In a run down, but once beautiful former hunting lodge, one hundred and ten children, suffering from terrible afflictions, are cared for by twenty nurses and three doctors. You can work out the maths yourselves, but in broad terms one nurse has about twenty children to look after on each shift. In the west, I would assume that such children would be looked after in far fewer numbers, perhaps one nurse to three or four children, allowing more individual attention. They would also be able to mix with 'normal' children, giving them the opportunity to lead more normal lives, rather than brief sessions of play each morning with the rest of the day spent in a bed, sometimes tied by leg and wrist in order to try and prevent the child from hurting themselves or even throwing themselves out of the bed. This isn't done through cruelty, but through love. The nurses care for these children and do this for, what they believe, is the right reasons, to stop them from hitting themselves on the iron bed or falling out when they are not in the room.

The hospital at Goryna Bistra is desperately in need of money and trained volunteers. Can you help? People who are not used to such suffering should not consider doing this, but even trained people would need all their skills.

All of the people on the trip were, in their own way, inspirational. All of the goods we took, from toiletries to nappies, to food and sweets, made somebody's life a little better. For a moment they were able to remember that someone else does care and gave themselves permission to smile a little. To watch the excitement on the faces of the children made each visit seem like Christmas day and what we gave them was the equivalent of our children popping into the local sweet shop and spending fifty pence. I have said to many people since my return that we do make a difference, and believe me we do.

Whether it is a big organisation like Tesco's or an individual working to collect a small box of luxuries, they can rest assured that the goods they collect or donate, gives a significant lift to the drudgery of people's lives. It is really difficult for us to consider what these conditions are like, and to some degree for that I am very grateful, but we have so much, that it isn't that much of a sacrifice for us to share a little.

Our next trip will be to Belgrade in June where we want to take food, which is much needed. There is food available in Belgrade but many people cannot afford to buy it. We will leave at the beginning of June following our charity concert on May 21st, at which we hope to raise £2,000.

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