Dry Bones

April 11th became my date back to sunny Los Angeles. Coffee Meets a Toasted Bagel. There was nothing stale about the bread that I received in my final weeks in the east coast- I began to hear God echoing his initial promise before I left late January 2014- “Sejin, I’ll be with you. Don’t be afraid. Go”. His promise was sealed when I knelt in prayer; He was telling me to bury the fox where it was and to come home. I buried that fox and stared at the patch of brown dirt; “Lord, what was the reason for me to come to NY if I wasn’t going to model?” He responded, “Sejin, there was nothing for you here in the first place. Just me”.

I knelt in that brown dirt and cried out, “Lord, you’re right. I’m sorry for wanting to expect more. It was just you. And you are enough”. I continued this testimony without the puppeteer act; I did not wear a fox on my right hand and me on the left hand. It was my final Tuesday night encounter with the church. I spoke in front of the 50 brave- those willing to experience the wilderness even if it meant that all would be taken away; His promises are sealed in the desert heat; our flesh withers- we will become dry bones, but he’ll breath into them. Resurrect us, Lord.

I won’t be attending CalArts this Fall. It became solely a financial decision after receiving my acceptance- another dry bone perhaps, but the fox is already dead- it won’t come smelling after it. I did take the first of a recurring Thursday night improv class at IO West- I felt discouraged- another dry bone; I don’t have a paper and pen in front of me to create story; it needs to come out through voice and speech; I’ll just IMPROV-E, yeah?

I’ll improve, Lord; no, my merits won’t bring dry bones to life- but I’ll bring them at your feet. I want to be a better son to my parents– baby back rib bone at your feet. I want to be a better friend; t-bone at your feet. I want to be a better actor and model- the fox that I buried- its bones are at your feet.


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