The first thing Railee learned about her body was that it did not belong to her.
Her mother taught her while dressing her up for church and school, meeting her eyes through the mirror as she oiled her thick, dark hair. And her father recited it every morning like a creed at the family altar.
“Your body is God's temple. Do not dishonour God,” her mother would say carefully, like the words were too fragile to be spoken carelessly.
Her father, through his unwavering gaze, placed particular emphasis on his words whenever he spoke about lust and youthful sins during family devotion.
At eight, Railee already carried herself with a caution beyond her years. She often remembered the special attention her parents gave to certain Scriptures and the solemnity with which they spoke them.
She knew those words carried meanings her mind could not yet grasp. They never said those things to Kobi. He was spared the sermons. So Railee grew up believing that heaven's reputation and her family's honour were tied to her body.
Her parents were never wrong in her eyes. They loved God. They spoke about Him at home as much as they did in church. They were only leading her in the way of the Lord.
Holiness was measured in long skirts, covered hair, lowered eyes, and silence.
Especially SILENCE. Not because she lacked words, but because quietness itself was holiness. So she did most of her talking in her mind and with her ever-active imagination.
She never missed the proud smiles that crossed her parents' faces whenever she was mentioned in Sunday school as a worthy example of a godly child.
Reserved.
Respectful.
Righteous.
For Railee, puberty came with frightening speed. At twelve, she looked sixteen.
It started when her hands inadvertently brushed against her chest while washing her armpits. She froze under the running shower, then shivered slightly. She'd bathed herself without supervision since she turned nine, but never had she noticed the hard lumpy growth beneath her nipples. Her mind, usually wandering during bathing, snapped into focus.
That was strange. But she could only wonder as she stared down at herself, oblivious to the water from the shower hitting her body violently as though it sensed her panic.
Then came the hair beneath her arms and the part of her body her mother never named directly. It felt as though she was living beside herself instead of within herself. She was evolving without her own permission.
Next came the pimples.
One. Two. Three…, until she counted eight. Strangely, she never saw them appear. She woke up every day to a new one, with several more scattered across her face, as though they owned it.
She had always loved the mirror. It held her secrets without judgment and listened better than people did. But lately, it had become a witness instead of a companion.
Each morning she stood before it searching for the girl she knew, only to find the fuller, sharper, and unfamiliar version of herself waiting there.
She stared at herself like she had been betrayed, her face tense with accusation. Rather than assuage her fears, the mirror only deepened them. She was moving inside her own body like a visitor wearing borrowed skin.
She began to carry herself as though she were a precious gem that mustn't be beheld by many eyes, yet she had lost her sense of self. She felt bare, terrified that everyone else would notice what had become glaringly obvious to her.
Every laugh around her sounded suspicious, as though someone had finally noticed. She folded her arms across her chest even when she wasn't cold, sat hunched in class, and avoided eye contact.
But her body was just getting started. With every quiet interval, another milestone was already taking shape. The changes continued over the following weeks.
One morning, several months later, Mathematics class felt unusually hot. She sat through the lesson in discomfort. It wasn’t Mathematics she feared anymore. Ms. Janet had helped her allay her fear of numbers.
Her lower abdomen hurt. Sharp, quick, and timed. She managed only by taking slow breaths. By nine that morning, sweat had gathered beneath her uniform and clung to her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Her palms were sweaty and sticky. She had never wanted Ms. Janet to end a lesson as badly as she did that morning.
As soon as the bell rang for recess, she pushed her locker open and hurried towards the sick bay.
Her brisk walk to the sick bay was cut short by Skylar, her boisterous classmate . The look on Skylar's face turned her stomach cold. And instead of speaking, Skylar dragged her to the school nurse, chanting, ‘blood’ with every step.
The pain subsided almost immediately and was replaced with confusion and fear. She was too flustered to utter a word. Beneath the fear, shame quietly surfaced.
Her fear deepened as soon as she faced Ms. Rachael, the school nurse. The words felt stuck in her throat. Thanks to Skylar, her chirpy classmate, there was little room for silence.
“Ms. Rachael, Railee has blood all over her skirt. I saw it when she stood up. She must be really hurt.”
“Blood? How?” Ms. Rachael was even more confused. Then she gently turned Railee around.
She sighed deeply, said a thank you to Skylar, and dismissed her with, “I need to speak with Railee privately.”
Railee felt she was in trouble. The horror in her face was unmistakable. Nothing prepared her for the sudden change in the atmosphere. The tension gave way to compassion. There, on Ms. Rachael's face, was a knowing smile and a softness Railee had never seen before.
Ms. Rachael crouched to Railee's level, her gentle smile unwavering, and her warm hands cupping Railee's cheek. “Railee, darling, you are fine. Perfectly fine. You're just a little more grown.”
Ms. Rachael's words didn't settle immediately. Instead, they hovered, confusing her even more.
Grown? Railee's mind flashed back to the series of changes going through her body. Were those part of growing too?
“Come with me. Let's clean you up.” Those words snapped her out of the whirlwind of thoughts running through her already racing mind. She followed without resistance, her legs moving before her mind.
Ms. Rachael guided her to a stool and went to fetch a towel and a pad. “You didn't do anything wrong,” she said. “This is something that happens to girls when their bodies begin to change.”
Railee looked down at her hands. “Change?” she repeated under her breath, testing the word in her mouth.
Ms. Rachael nodded. “Yes, change.” There was a brief pause then. As though the nurse were choosing which truth to place gently into the room. “This is called menstruation. It means your body is healthy. It is doing what it was meant to do.
“It is one of those changes that affirms your femininity. It happens every month to every woman, except in rare cases.” Ms. Rachael continued gently, staring directly into Railee's eyes.
Those words only deepened her confusion. “Why has my mum not told me this? She always said my body was God's temple.” Railee muttered.
Ms. Rachael smiled softly, the kind that eased worries and made them surmountable. “Your mother is right, sweetheart. Your body is God's temple.”
Railee looked up immediately. “It is?”
“Of course it is,” Ms. Rachael said, placing Railee's hands in hers. “But being God's temple doesn't mean your body will never change. It doesn't mean you have to be afraid of it either.”
Railee frowned thoughtfully. “Then why is all this happening?”
“Because you're growing,” Ms. Rachael replied. “Just as a seed grows into a tree and a child grows taller, your body is growing too. Some changes happen where everyone can see them. Others happen quietly inside.”
She pointed lightly to Railee's chest. “The changes you've noticed, the ones that have frightened you, they're all part of that growth.”
Railee's shoulders relaxed slightly. “So, I'm not sick?”
“No, darling.”
“Nothing is wrong with me?”
“Not at all.”
The answer came so quickly and confidently that something inside her loosened.
For months she had lived as though her body had betrayed her. Every new change had felt like an alarm bell. Every glance in the mirror felt like evidence that she was becoming someone unfamiliar.
Yet here sat Ms. Rachael, completely unalarmed.
“Your body is doing exactly what it was designed to do,” she continued. “The blood doesn't mean you're injured. The changes in your chest aren't signs that something is wrong. The hair, the pimples, all of it is part of becoming a young woman.”
Railee looked down at her lap. A young woman. The words felt strange. Not frightening. Just new. “What if I don't like the changes?” she managed to ask.
Ms. Rachael chuckled softly. “Most girls don't at first.”
That made Railee laugh despite herself.
“You spend years wishing to grow up,” Ms. Rachael continued, “and then your body starts growing faster than your mind can keep up.” The nurse leaned back in her chair. “The important thing is to understand that your body is not your enemy. It is not something to be ashamed of. It is not something that exists only to bear everyone else's expectations.”
Railee blinked. Nobody had ever said that before.
“You should take care of your body. Respect it. Listen to it when it needs rest. Learn about it. Ask questions when you're confused.” She paused. “Because how can you care for something you've been taught to fear?”
The question settled gently between them. For a long moment, Railee said nothing. Then she began talking. She told Ms. Rachael about the lumps beneath her chest. About the hair she discovered. About the pimples she counted every morning. About folding her arms across herself in class. About standing before the mirror searching for the old version of herself.
And Ms. Rachael listened. She listened without shock. Without judgment. Without embarrassment.
By the time Railee finished, the room felt lighter. The fear that had followed her for months no longer seemed as large. For the first time, she realized that every change she had dreaded had a name. Every question she carried had an answer.
When she finally stood to leave, she glanced at her reflection in the small mirror above the sink. The girl staring back at her was still unfamiliar. But she no longer looked frightening. She looked like someone changing.
For the first time, Railee knew that all the changes she had feared were not signs that something was wrong. They were signs that something was right.
The breasts she tried to hide.
The pimples she counted.
The blood that had terrified her.
None of them had arrived to disgrace her.
They were simply her body speaking a language she had never been taught. And now, at last, she was beginning to understand it.
As she walked out of the sick bay, the afternoon sun spilled across the corridor, warm against her skin.
Her body was still God's temple. But now she understood something more. A temple is not honoured by ignorance. It is honoured by understanding.
And the body God had given her was not merely something to guard. It was something to know. Something to care for. Something to live in.
And for the first time since the changes began, Railee felt at home in her body.
She was Railee. Her body was God's temple. And temples, too, are living places.