Rachana’s Story: “I Wrote My Name for the First Time”

The Risk of Being Seen

Then one day, a Bible-based reading class came to my village.

People talked about it with excitement, but I felt fear rise in me instead. I imagined sitting in a classroom again—at 60 years old—next to children small enough to be my grandchildren, children half her height.

I almost didn’t go.

But my friends encouraged me. Gently. Patiently. They told me it was not too late.

So I took a step I never thought I would take.

Letters That Felt Like Secrets

On the first day, I remember my hands shaking.

The letters on the page looked like secrets I could not unlock. I felt slow, embarrassed, out of place. There were moments when I wanted to run home—to walk out and never come back.

But, I stayed.

Day after day, I returned. Slowly, miraculously, the secrets revealed themselves. The letters began to make sense. 

“I Felt Seen. Valuable. Loved.”

Then came the day I will never forget.

“I wrote my name for the first time,” I say, my voice still filled with wonder.

And then, a Bible verse.

As I read it aloud, something shifted deep within me. It was more than learning. More than achievement.

“I suddenly felt… Seen,” I whisper. “Valuable. Loved.”

For the first time, I didn’t feel left behind. I felt chosen.

A New Beginning at 60

Now, when I hold the Bible, I no longer feel shame. I feel joy. Confidence. Belonging.

What I once hid in silence has become my testimony.

It is never too late to learn. Never too late to be seen. Never too late to discover that God has always known your name—even before you could write it.

And now, I can read His Word for myself.