2012 Toronto Marathon

2009 Mississauga Marathon 3 Hours 42 Minutes
2010 Mississauga Marathon 3 Hours 19 Minutes
2011 Boston Marathon 3 Hours 25 Minutes
2012 Toronto Marathon

Four years, four full marathons, 109 miles, and more than 14 hours of running on concrete and asphalt. Another year, another marathon finished. Are my days of running marathons finished as well? I truly don’t know. When I crossed the finish line I thought they were, but now I’m not so sure.

I sent the following to a major running magazine, which asked the question, “Why do you run?” I run for many of the same reasons as other Canadian runners. I started running as a form of cross training in my exercise program. However, I believe my reasons for running marathons may be unique, and I would like to share them:

• I run marathons to help fund a project called the NewSong Center in Cambodia, which is supported by the organization Ratanak International. At the center, sixty girls rescued from the sex trade are counselled, educated, and taught survival skills.
• I run marathons for these Cambodian girls who are between three and nineteen years old.
• I run marathons to raise awareness for the two million girls worldwide who are forced into prostitution.
• I run marathons to show my daughters that nothing is impossible, and that it is never okay to give up. Nothing and no one should stop someone from pursuing a dream.
• I run marathons because my father always told me, “One man can make a difference.” Running marathons has allowed me to try to be that man.
• I run marathons because I can. The girls I run for sometimes can’t even walk.
• I run marathons because even the hills in Boston can’t compare to the hills these girls must overcome in their daily lives.
• When I run marathons, the pain I experience is temporary, but it reminds me of the pain these girls must bear. And the marathon training, in a very small way, reminds me of the girls’ everyday struggles.
• I run marathons because I am not smart enough to stop. This year I completed the Toronto GoodLife marathon to help bring new life in Cambodia.
• I run marathons because now that I’ve started, I can’t see myself stopping.
• I run marathons because when my life is over, the “thank you” of even one young girl will mean more to me than any title, position, or money I could earn.

In summary, I run marathons because even though they are more demanding than I could have ever dreamed or imagined, when I cross the finish line, I wouldn’t trade my sense of contentment and well-being even to win the races.

At a core group meeting, a friend referred to me as a fundraiser, which I find amusing—nobody likes asking people for money less than I do. I once told Lisa Cheong who is in Cambodia doing work for Ratanak right now that if I worked somewhere for minimum wage instead of putting in hours and hours of marathon training, I would probably raise more money for Ratanak than I do running.

On Sunday, as I ran through downtown Toronto, I passed elaborate displays of wealth and splendour in the business area. The major banks had massive buildings for their headquarters. In my limited time as a fundraiser, I’ve found that small-business owners and average people have been very supportive of my cause. Large businesses have not contributed anything. I wonder why. Do big businesses look at what they can get out of their giving? For example, is the problem of childhood obesity in Canada worse than the plight of young children forced to work in the brothels of Cambodia? As I ran today, I thought that if even one of these corporations were to make a contribution from their wealth, so many more children could be helped.

Today was a first: my former fundraising manager and biggest supporter, my father, did not come to this race. He is recovering from two recent operations. Instead, my family Gloria, Katarina, Isabella, Gloria’s mother (Nona), and I piled into our van at 6:15 a.m., and they dropped me off at the starting line. I was very tired as, in keeping with tradition, I slept fewer hours than I will run.

The first part of the race was uneventful and was a nice course as I ran through parts of downtown Toronto that I rarely get the chance to see. I hit the halfway point and was feeling strong; the time was not my best, but it was something I could live with, and I thought I could keep up the pace for the whole race.

At the 30-km mark, a feeling like an electric current started tingling in my right quadriceps. In the past, this has been a warning signal that severe cramping is about to begin. The current spread to my calf, and I felt the first spasm start. I placed my hand on my leg and said a quick prayer. The pain relented a bit, and I thought back to my longest day of training. On that day, I had the choice to wake up at 5 a.m. to get my long run in, or go to an early church service and run afterward.

The weather report the night before called for heavy rains all day. Crossing my fingers, I decided against the early wake-up and went to church. Wrong move. I could hear the rain pounding on the church roof, and driving home, I knew I had a miserable run ahead of me. Isabella asked many times, “Why do you have to run today?” It was hard to explain, but striking a delicate balance between family time and work requires days when I have to run. At just one month away from the marathon, I couldn’t put off my run until the next day. Sorry, Izzy. Rain or not, I had to run.

I have to be creative and design a training course that allows me to be outside for more than three hours. I ran Centennial hill a few times. In an earlier posting, I wrote that this hill is symbolic of the young girls in Cambodia as they get a fresh start in life.

Later on, as I ran past an empty golf course, I felt a sharp pain start in my right calf. Those who know me well know this is the same problem that almost stopped my marathon career before it even started. I’ve had no problem with my calf all year, and sensing where this attack was coming from, I started yelling angrily at the top of my lungs:

No more auction block for them

No more, no more
No more auction block for them
Many thousands gone
No more strange man’s hands on them
No more, no more
No more beatings for them
Many thousands gone
No more rapes of them
Many thousands gone
No more auction block for them
No more, no more
No more auction block for them

This is a song I came across two marathons ago, it is a song sung by Slaves freed in the United States I changed a few words to make it more appropriate for child slaves, the words sums up why I run marathons and my belief that the exploited children in Cambodia can and will have a new life.

The pain went away and I continued my run. Right after this, a different sort of writing came into my head. I wrote down the words after I finished.

There is a place that I know

That mortal men should fear to go.
It is a place of depravity and shame,
A place where its leader was once called Cain.
The children who are kept in this place
Suffer much disgrace.
They are held against their will
And beaten and made to lie still.

This is a place that should be dark,

Yet I see a tiny spark,
A ray of hope in this domain.
One day the light will surely reign.

I am called to run this race,

And this is where I see God’s face.
I stumble often, He picks me up.
I know this place is my cup.

The voice tells me I am weak and small,

One day I believe this giant will fall.
This giant feeds on fear and wrath.
One day this giant will be snapped in half.

The giant is an awesome beast.

The children are its favourite feast.
The place I see I hate to go,
Yet something draws me, this I know.

I finished the rest of this training run, setting a new record of 3 hours, 46 minutes, and pronounced myself on track for the upcoming marathon.

The pain in my legs brought me back to the reality of the race, and I thought to myself that this was going to be a tough finish. A friend recently told me that God is everywhere. Sometimes I find it hard to believe God is in the brothels of Cambodia, but I have no doubt that He was at the 32-km mark.

Every race has photographers taking pictures of runners during the event, hoping to sell pictures afterward. I always find it amusing when people tell me to smile. I find it hard to smile for a family portrait. But after the first half of the marathon was finished, when the pain had really started up, there was no way I was going to look happy for a picture. But this was an exception. I didn’t smile; I actually laughed. Why? A band by the roadside was playing an old song by the White Animals. It was none other than “Gloria.” A reminder of my most beautiful wife at this point in the race kept me going.

As I ran through a park, the promised water stations weren’t there, a sign of things to come. The cramping had made me change my stride, and I took very small steps trying to continue. At the 35-km mark, there was a huge commotion. Isabella saw me and ran excitedly beside me. (I thought of giving her my racing bib as she was running so much faster than I was.) Then Nona yelled my name and crossed into the path of runners. Katarina was so excited, she ran towards me, leaving her two-year-old niece in the swing by herself. Isabella asked how I was doing. I said, “No good,” and pointed at my right leg, shaking my head.

At the 36-km mark, the water station had plenty of water and Gatorade but no cups. This was my low point. Looking back, I realize that quitting a marathon has never been an option for me. I remember two fellow runners in Boston talking about the $20 they had stashed for cab fare, in case they couldn’t finish. Many times on Sunday, I saw people stop running and head off the course. But I can’t ask people to sponsor me for a full marathon and only run half. In a way, I am offering a pound of my flesh. I believe there is also something deeper at play here. I cannot quit, because if I do, I believe I am giving up on the girls in Cambodia.

Then the toughest moment was upon me. My left quadriceps started to spasm, and I had to stop running to stretch out both legs. I started moving slowly, no longer worried about my time. After walking a bit, I sent out another quick prayer, which seems to be a common part of my marathons: “I ask that I may finish this race running, not walking.” I feel it’s important to finish strong. The first few steps were torture, but I kept going. I said to myself, “NewSong girls, you must carry me now.”

The rest of the race was a blur. I moved slowly, and many runners passed me. Right before the finish line, I saw beautiful Gloria cheering me on, and I crossed the line running. I saw that my time was 3 hours, 35 minutes, and I confess I was disappointed - I thought I should have run much faster. After rehydrating myself, I found Gloria through the mob of people. She hugged me, and a wave of emotion hit me. I couldn’t speak for a few minutes. She thought my disappointment with my time caused this, but when I could speak, I told her I realized this may be my last marathon; what the races have come to mean to me hit me all at once. In my last blog, I posted this picture and wrote about everything that is wrong with it and how it affects me.

 

These are lyrics from a Mumford & Sons song:

How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes

I struggle to find any truth in your lies

Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free

To me, the lyrics relate to the picture and mean this: The picture represents the estimated two million children worldwide forced to work as prostitutes. It’s an enormous problem that you and I will never be able to solve in a hundred lifetimes. The “lie” in the song is that we can do nothing. But instead of looking at all that’s wrong with the picture, we can look at it as an opportunity. Look at it and ask yourself what you can do to change the life of one of these children.

A few years ago, I said I wanted to raise enough money to keep a young girl out of a brothel and safe in a place like NewSong for one year. Wednesday, during my last run before the marathon, I felt that this has been accomplished. Think about it. Besides being a father or husband, what greater reward could I receive than the knowledge that my work of the last four years has indeed kept one of these precious children safe?

Larry 

Around the Bay in Two Plus Hours

In 7 days I will  run in Toronto`s Goodlife Marathon.  A runner once said 'the shelf life of a Marathon runner is only slightly longer than a fruit fly.'  Realizing that this area of my life can end at any time, I have used a few different races this year to prepare myself for the Toronto Marathon and included my family as often as I can. A few Sundays ago was the 30 km “Around the Bay” run around Hamilton`s Harbour.

The night before the race:

I am restless because even though I feel fine physically, this winter was challenging for me on a few levels.  Doubts assail me and I wonder if I am up to the challenge.  Before going to bed I look at a picture on my Computer monitor that has become a constant reminder of why I have choosen to run.   I than pray that I will only run for God`s glory.  Feeling better, I go to bed and have a somewhat peaceful sleep. 

 

I awake at 6.30 a.m. with an upset stomach, a tension headache in my neck, and a sinus headache above my eyes.  Chuckling to myself, I wonder which type of pain relief I need; fortunately I choose Ibuprofen and both of my headaches cease.  My elder daughter is not feeling well, so she decides to stay at home. The younger one, while not feeling great, decides to come at the last possible minute. After my parents arrive at our house, my wife, my other daughter and I drive to Hamilton without any excitement.

 

The race: 

Walking around outside the starting line, I think of a T-shirt a I remember seeing a missionary wear around my Church, which said   'Make war on the floor'.  I guess it was a strong statement of this lady`s personal belief in the power of prayer.  I think to myself that this is what my runs are about: in a strange way I am making war when I run, although in my mind I see many reasons that should disqualify me for such a task. Running a race is a very individual event; people cheering for you can help, but for the most part on the course, you are by yourself against the difficulty of the course, the elements, and a lot of times against your own body and mind. THE ONE THING I KNOW!  - is that when I run a race for Ratanak and the girls at the New Song Center, I am never alone.

The start is uneventful and I hope to run a 'smart' race today.  I have actually taken the time to look at the race map and note that the last 10 km have some huge hills, so I try to hold off a bit to save some energy for the finish.  I am looking for my family at the starting line.  I see them before they see me and I yell out 'Izzy' (my daughter`s nick name). A rare thing happens then:   my father snaps a quick photo and there actually is a picture of me smiling.

At the 7km mark a sign captures my eye. It says 'Learn to love the pain.'  Not quite, but as I think of my experience in running long distances, I see where I have learned to tolerate the pain, and sometimes even embrace the pain as I sense what is being accomplished.

The Picture

Shortly after these thoughts, the picture I have thought about many times this winter comes to mind.  On the Ratanak website under Projects -- Child Exploitation Projects -- New Song is “The Picture.”  A picture tells a thousand words - well, this picture tells of two lives.  These two tiny girls have their heads bowed.   They are on a bed.  The younger one is leaning on the older one, possibly for comfort or safety, yet safety is a world away.  Compassion will not come to these girls.  They are so small, so frail, so delicate, so beautiful, so innocent, so shattered, so shamefully exploited.  Such evil has overwhelmed and consumed their young lives.

What do I, a man, feel when I look at this picture?  I feel shock: I have heard many stories of abuse such girls as these face, yet every time I read or hear a new story I still find it hard to believe.  I feel shame: men who may have much in common with me have deeply wounded these girls’ flesh and spirits, and I wonder - not for the first time - if this world would not be better off without men if this is what we are capable of.  I feel anger: I confess that I imagine having a group of my friends, all strong, good men, much like David`s 'mighty men' from the Bible, searching out and punishing the men who have harmed these girls.  I am convicted, and wonder what else I can possibly do to help girls such as these. I am overwhelmed if I think of so many other little girls around the world with heads bowed in shame, enduring unspeakable acts of cruelty on their young bodies.

I am reminded of the words of a song (that I liked more than 20 years ago) by the group 54-40:

  I Go Blind

  Every time I look at you I go blind

  Every time I look at you I go blind

  Every time I look at you I go blind

  Little child did you know that there`s a light

  And it’s gonna shine right through your eyes

  What do you think that life is like

  Every time I look at you I go blind

  I go blind, I go blind

  Every time I look at you I go blind

It has a catchy beat and at the time I thought it was about a man singing about how looking at the one he loves made him go blind.  I was shocked when I saw the music video for this song, as it showed tanks rolling through countryside’s, armies marching through foreign countries, and young children crying at the unfairness life had brought them.  I later discovered that this group is very involved in being advocates for children in the less developed countries.

What this song describes is a bit like my family’s cat, Lucy. When Lucy naps in the middle of the day, she keeps the light from entering into her eyes and disturbing her sleep by putting her paws over them so she can sleep.  To me this represents the reactions of a lot of people when viewing this type of picture for the second time.  The first time there is shock and a lot of thoughts, possibly commitments to try to do something to change these girls situation.  After time these feelings fade and we move on with our lives forgetting these girls in the picture.  Possibly later when we are confronted by these images again, we are not as shocked and we become like Lucy - we cover our eyes, we change the channel, we put these girls and their lives as far out of our minds as possible.

Mud on our feet:

Brian McConaghy, the founder of Ratanak, wrote these words under The Picture.

I am overwhelmed by the daily hell (a term I do not use lightly) experienced by these children and have no idea how they can survive as long as they do.  Yet, I am stubborn in my belief that here, there can be hope.  I remain confident that the penetrating light of Christ can punch holes even in this darkness.  This is not a time to be passive-- it is a time to roll up our sleeves and climb down into the muck at the bottom of the barrel--just as Christ would do.

  

For some reason, I dislike getting mud on my shoes more than anything. But because this past winter has been so mild, my biggest challenge this year in running down my ravine has not been the cold and snow, but the mud.  The mud stays on my shoes for the whole run, distracting me and making me feel unclean.  But when we involve ourselves in these children’s lives, we have to be willing to get muddy.  Pulling someone out of mud allows some of the mud to attach itself to our lives.

Other images

At this point of the race I see a brilliant white light enter the girls’ room. I see a figure in white bending over to pick up and gently cradle one of these girls and taking her to a place that is safe far from this room.  This image stays with me for quite a while and even though after the 16 km mark a new ache starts in my body, this picture satisfies me that the pain is worth it, that somehow in a way I will never understand, my act of running is making a difference.

Not to be outdone, another presence makes itself known to me.  At the 28 mark there is a cemetery.  I see a sign on the sidewalk with the words 'I see dead runners'.  Although not finding this hilarious, I can see the humour.  Next is a sign warning us to 'avoid looking at the Reaper,' then a man and a woman actually dressed as Grim Reapers with their scythes and shouting out warnings to the runners not to look at them and also warning of upcoming death to the runners.  I was furious and with clenched fists actually ran towards the man and called him an idiot.  At the time, I was thinking of fellow runners who were struggling and knowing how hard it is sometimes to finish a race.  Upon reflection I see where my reaction was much deeper.  Death came about because of Adam’s and Eve`s sin.  Death is a consequence of sin and should not have been part of earth.  Obviously people dressed as the Grim Reaper are not on the side that I fight for.  I think what really set me off is the recognition that just as unnatural death is for us, so is the life forced upon these young girls.  As with Adam and Eve, sin has entered into the lives of these girls and taken away what should be theirs – childhood and innocence – and instead, exposing them to the evil that desires, and then destroys, their young bodies.

But Death and Grim Reaper, your days are numbered.   Earlier in the race at the 20 km mark right before the hills, a man (who would be considered a 'small person') sits by the side of the road with his music blaring - the old Queen song 'We are the Champions.'  The part 'we will we will rock you' blares at me as I approach him.  I am overcome with emotion and high-five him.  I hear a chorus of young children signing at the top of their lungs 'He will He will crush you.'  At first I am thinking of the pedophiles and abusers of these children but then realize that this goes much deeper: it is about the day when Jesus crushes the head of Satan with his heel. 

  Genesis 3:15

  he will crush your head,

  and you will strike his heel.

As I pull into Copps Coliseum and run across the finish line, I think perhaps on May 6 as I run my next marathon in Toronto, I will see the rescue of another little girl much like the one in the picture.

 Larry

Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, All is True

The title closely resembles gifts that some cultures believe in giving to the new bride and groom, hoping to bring luck to the newlyweds; it also has some similarities with this writing.   My parents recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.  God willing, I may get there one day.  I realized my involvement in bringing justice for the young girls being sexually exploited in Cambodia has been a gift to me and is a commitment like a marriage and will be a lifelong process.

These thoughts came to me on two different days:  December 24 and December 31.  They came to me as I ran down what I call my 'ravine'.  

I have three different types of runs.  The treadmill run is not a lot of fun.  This run is like work, but it serves a purpose.  This run strengthens my legs and changes things up a bit.  It also helps to build speed and helps me in overcoming obstacles when I run a race.

The day of the race is the next type of run.  I used to look so forward to this day.  At each race my father prays 'that I run for God`s glory.'  Lately I have had some very real struggles to finish some of these races.  I feel like I am the rope in a spiritual tug of war.  I feel like I have to hold my hand on a stove for a long period of time.  At first I did not know what to expect.  Now I know I hold my hand willingly, not because I enjoy the feeling but because I believe a higher purpose is being accomplished by holding on and finishing each race.  I believe that young girls are being moved closer to their spiritual freedom. How better to show God`s glory than seeing young girls rescued from a life of sexual slavery?

The next run is my outside run.  I look forward to these runs no matter what the weather.  I believe the 'Wisdom' that is mentioned in Proverbs is searching during these runs.  To my good fortune, sometimes Wisdom finds me on my long runs, and that is when I write what I see.

My ravine is a stretch of land that starts in Mississauga, winds through Etobicoke and ends up on the border of Brampton.  These two days, December 24 and 31, were my long runs.  Combined, I ran over 28 miles; I finished in just under four hours.  I am again training for a marathon.  I was excited on the 24th because, after four months of slowly increasing the mileage, and building a solid foundation, I was starting to stretch out my long runs, hoping to continue increasing my runs until hopefully I will be able to run 26.2 miles on May 6.  I am running the Goodlife Marathon in Toronto to try to bring New Life in Cambodia.

This day I think of the events in my life that brought me to this point.  I realize again how strange is life, how your whole life can change in an instant.  I think back to the event that changed my life.  More than six years ago, I went to church for a service at Thanksgiving.  I left church shaken, as Lisa Cheong of an organization called Ratanak International, talked about girls as young as my daughters being sold into a life of sexual slavery in Cambodia.  Tears fresh on my cheeks, I left church very determined to do something to change this.

Four years ago, I started running down this same ravine as a form of cross training in my exercise program.  After a few months I thought, 'why not run a marathon for Ratanak?'  Looking back now, I realize how naive I was in both areas of my life.

Currently two million children are sold into sexual slavery every year.  The money generated is in the billions.  Add to this a very real, very frightening spiritual adversary who fights hard and dirty, not willing to relinquish his grasp on these children.

My original course was approximately five miles.  I ran this every day on old shoes without any knowledge of proper training or even simple ways to allow my body to heal itself through rest.  Not surprisingly, I was injured and had a very stressful few months leading up to my first marathon.

If you decide to become involved in any form of being an advocate in this area, you will have coyotes of the two legged variety, and coyotes of a very supernatural level stand in your way to oppose you.

Heading down Burnhamthorpe to reach the ravine, tears start up in my eyes.  I am not thinking of any of the many heartbreaking stories I have read.  I am not moved to tears at an amazing story of rescue for one of these girls.  My tears are falling because the wind is very strong and it is whipping into my eyes right away.  Heading onto the path itself, I think of the setup of my ravine.  A creek is on my left; for the most part I run in the middle of a long forest.

Being taken out of your comfort level is a sobering thing.  Before hearing of the plight of the children in Cambodia I had very little knowledge or interest of many of the world`s population and their problems.  I now know of child soldiers, starvation, and the AIDS epidemic in Africa, bonded labour in India, many of the world`s population lack of clean drinking water, and the numerous wars and corrupt governments which lead to misery for many of the world`s most vulnerable people, women and children. 

I saw all the world's problems represented by the seven miles of trees I run past.  This was very overwhelming, so I wondered what can one very ordinary man do?  

I took one particular forest and named it Child Prostitution in Cambodia.  I saw countless, huge, invincible looking trees.  I saw the soil was still fresh with the skulls and bodies of the three million victims of the Killing Fields.  The girls' blood and also the men who abuse them were now the food that these trees feed on.

I narrowed it further down to one particular tree. This is a huge, thick invincible looking tree.  My earlier naive efforts were much like taking an axe and striking the base of this enormous tree over and over again.  I realize I have to become wiser.  I then thought when given an opportunity I should strike at a limb.  By hitting limbs, I will have more success.  I saw where cutting off a limb is the rescue or keeping safe of one girl, and it is also weakening the tree. 

I thought of a song I have not heard in many years.  This happens often as I run; most songs this happens with are not 'Christian'.  By changing a few words, the song takes on a new meaning.

  Bruce Cockburn

  If a tree falls in the forest

  Does anybody hear?

  Does anybody hear?

  Anybody hear the forest fall?

 

  If a child screams in a brothel

  Does anybody hear?

  Does anybody care?

  Anybody hear the child scream?

  If a child screams in a brothel

  Does anybody hear?

  Does anybody care?

  Anybody care that the child screams?

I realize theses girls' screams are not going unheard.  Look again at the tree.  It has a scar in its middle.  In the Book of Daniel, it mentions a time that has been chosen for the overthrow of the godless ruler Belshazzar.  It mentions he set himself apart from God - he has been weighed, found lacking and will be overthrown.

This tree has not been cut down.  Notice the whole tree, including its root system lying in the water, not a natural occurrence.  This tree is dead, never to rise again.  The roots will never choke the life out of any other trees.  The seeds from this tree can not start any new trees.  This tree has been made an example of.

2 Colossians 2:15: And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them triumphing over them by the cross.

The tree in the water represents the tree of evil that holds captive and feeds on the sexual abuse of young children in Cambodia.

Three simple words.  A saying, a warning perhaps.  I pass five different signs such as this one.  Possibly they warn me of the coyotes waiting in the brush, possibly they warn me of an uneven bank that could have me fall into the creek, or possibly there is some unforeseen danger to me.  The sign gives me good advice and in my four years of running I have never once ventured off this trail.

I believe all of us have a trail or a path to follow in life.  I thought of all the men (white) who fly overseas to spend time in a poor, dirty Third World country and pay money to sexually abuse these children. I am not a psychologist so why anyone could derive pleasure from beating and than sexually abusing young, beautiful children is beyond me.   I thought of how this may come about.  I have heard many times in church pastors use the 'slippery slope' analogy, where by thrill seeking away from what God intends, you end up heading down a path far from where you started to a place you never intended.  I believe this is the way satan uses pornography on people.

Paul Bernardo started as the 'Scarborough Rapist' before moving onto torture and murder. Colonel Danny Williams also escalated his perversion after starting with stealing women`s lingerie, moving again onto rape and murder.

What my former pastors did not mention is God`s 'slippery slope.'  Sometimes by following daily steps of obedience we may end up in a place we had never thought of. 

Brian McConaghy is the Founder and Director of Ratanak International.  I doubt if more than twenty years ago he saw himself retiring from the RCMP to give his all to the people of Cambodia. Lisa Cheong started going on short term mission trips annually to Cambodia.  I doubt she knew then that she would leave the world of finance to work full time in Cambodia.

Crossing the final bridge on the 31st of December, tears fall again.  The prophet Isaiah had a vision in the temple and cried out:

Isaiah 6:5: 'Woe to me!'  I cried. 'I am ruined!  For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and I have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.'

I realize again how great God`s love is for these girls, and how undeserving I am of the privilege of fighting for these girls.  I also realize how close God is to these girls and when I involve myself in their lives how close He is to me. Cambodia was not always a place where children were bought and sold as product. 

The Boston Marathon is one of the hardest marathon courses in the world because of a series of hills, including the legendary 'Heartbreak Hill' which is an enormous hill right near the end of the race.  As preparation for running in last year`s Boston Marathon, I took to training by running a ski hill named Centennial Ski Hill in Etobicoke.  In the late fall I noticed these fresh planted trees.  

After the tree of evil I mentioned earlier is overthrown, something has to be planted to take its place.  Look closely, some trees have bright tags or ribbons on them; other trees have a white plastic guard around them.  These fresh planted trees are the children of Cambodia, some still to be born.  The future of Cambodia is like these trees. The ribbons represent beauty and a marking or recognition that they have been chosen by God.  The white guard protects the young vulnerable trees from being eaten by wild animals, and the colour white shows their purity in the eyes of God, not man.  For the children it represents the Spirit that will guard and protect them.  It will strike and chase away the evil that would seek to reclaim its land. The soil is not hate, but love.  Not fear, but peace.  Not rejection, but acceptance. Not despair, but hope.  The children will grow straight and tall on this hill.

Jesus's first message was based on Isaiah 61.  Once I had these words spoken prophetically to me.

1  The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.

    He has sent me to bind up the broken hearted,  to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.

 I saw verse 3 and 4 on Centennial Hill

3  And provide for those who grieve in Zion--- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.  They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendour.

4  They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated, they will rebuild the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.

What I find most interesting is the original purpose of Centennial Hill.  More than thirty years ago the City of Toronto used it as a transfer station for waste.  Centennial Ski Hill where I run, and the beautiful park that surrounds it, used be an enormous garbage dump. The children being used sexually in Cambodia are considered disposable; they are looked on as garbage themselves. When they are no longer useful, they are thrown out and another takes their place. God is in the process of building His own beautiful Hill in Cambodia on what people consider garbage, the frail bodies of the children in Cambodia.