Lina was twelve when her body sent her a very strange notification.
It didn’t pop up on a screen. It came somewhere between her left armpit and her brain, and it said:
“System Update Available.“
She ignored it.
A few weeks later, her shirt didn’t fit the same, her face got shiny for no reason, and she cried at a toothpaste commercial.
So she checked the message again.
“System Update Installing…“
Estimated Time: Unknown.
May reboot frequently.
And with that, she realized she was officially on the ride.
Puberty is like standing at a train station with no sign, no ticket, and no idea when the train leaves. One day, it just shows up — and you’re on it. It’s not a comfy ride. More like:
One wobbly chair labeled “Growing Breasts”
AÂ foggy window that blurs with every new feeling
And a snack cart that only serves unexpected emotions
At the front are the glands — odd little conductors without uniforms, quietly running the train.
They send out hormones — loud messengers that yell things like:
“Stretch the bones!”
“Grow hair — yes, there too!”
“Tears now! No reason needed!”
Hormones don’t ask. They just start rearranging everything.
Puberty doesn’t ease in.
It slaps a “Under Construction” sign on your chest and hips, adds hair in the pubic area and underarms, and gives your face a weekly surprise oil spill.
Your bones shift. Your voice changes — not just boys. Girls too. Softer maybe, but real.
You don’t wake up one day and say, “Ah yes, today I have become a woman.”
Nope. You say, “Why are my pants tight in new places and why am I yelling at a spoon?”
While your body is upgrading, your mind is trying to catch up — and not always doing great.
Suddenly, you’re thinking about huge things:
“What’s the point of life?”
“Why do adults act like they know everything when they don’t?”
“Do I want to kiss someone or throw my pencil?”
This isn’t drama. It’s called developing reason. The Bible calls it the power of reason, which sounds noble — and it is — but it also comes with identity confusion and a lot of deep sighs.
Eventually, you find yourself on the part of the train with dim lighting and weird music.
Someone smiles at you and your stomach flips. Suddenly, your hoodie feels too tight, and your brain has left the chat.
This is totally normal. It’s called youthful desire — not a command, just a signal. The Bible calls it the bloom of youth. It’s strong, but it doesn’t mean you’re ready for everything it suggests.
Love may be real, but your judgment is still under construction, holding a sign that says “Almost There.” You don’t need to rush. You’re not late. You’re just learning the controls.
The girl in Song of Solomon said, “I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers” Translation?Â
“Yes, my body has changed. But I know how to hold myself.”.
At some point, every passenger looks in the mirror and asks the big question: “Who are you?”
Not a kid. Not yet an adult. Just in between. Like a butterfly still in the process of inventing wings.
Puberty doesn’t end with a graduation hat or a finish line. There’s no loudspeaker that says, “You have now arrived at Womanhood.”
Instead, you realize this train wasn’t carrying you away from who you are. It was carrying you closer.
You’re not becoming someone else.
You’re becoming more yourself than ever before.
And the best part?
You’re just getting started.
Song of Solomon 8:10; 1 Corinthians 7:36; Romans 12:2; 2 Timothy 2:22