When I boarded my flight to Jamaica to support families devastated by the hurricane, I thought I understood what hardship looked like. I knew Isiah’s Helping Hands would offer support, even if only a drop in the ocean, through hygiene kits, donated supplies, and the funds entrusted to us by caring hearts. But I could never have imagined how profoundly your presence would reshape me.

When I landed in Kingston, electricity had just been restored. Shelves were sparse, supplies had already been rushed to Westmoreland, St. Elizabeth, and St. James. Still, with the generosity of our donors, we managed to purchase essentials: cornmeal, water, tissue, and other urgently needed items.

While working with the Sisters of Jamaica to assemble care packages, we received word that several expectant mothers, and mothers who had just delivered had been airlifted from Westmoreland to the maternity hospital in Kingston. The hospital was stretched far beyond capacity. Without hesitation, we carefully packed hygiene kits to support these women and the overwhelmed staff caring for them.

Soon after, I left Kingston and travelled to St. Elizabeth to find my family. I was anxious, communication had been silent. By grace, they were alive and safe, but the destruction around them was heartbreaking. Floodwaters still blocked entry to many homes. Schools were unrecognisable. Lives had been uprooted overnight.

And then, as we drove through Black River and into Westmoreland, I witnessed devastation unlike anything I had ever seen. It was as if a bomb had struck. Homes flattened. Commercial buildings split open. Trees stripped bare and grey. People walking without direction, their grief palpable.

In Whitehouse, Westmoreland, I saw a mother sitting on the rubble of her home, breastfeeding her baby — her world shattered except for a single white face basin still standing. In that moment, hunger and exhaustion vanished from my body.

Only one truth remained:

Melissa was cruel and I was forever changed.

But even in that heartbreak, we continued. We handed out medication, hygiene kits for women and men, baby supplies, and water, whatever we had, we placed directly into the hands of those who needed it most.

I know that what IHH provided was just a drop in a vast ocean of need. But a drop can still quench thirst. A drop can still spark hope. A drop can still remind someone that they are not forgotten.

Let us not forget the people of this beautiful island.

Melissa touched them harshly, and their recovery will take time — long after the headlines fade.

There is so much still to do:

• Continued healthcare for families.

• Therapy and emotional support for children.

• Assistance to help young people return to school.

• Support for families to rebuild their homes and their lives.

I am asking, from my heart to yours, please help us continue this work.

Your donation is not just a gift.

It is shelter.
It is medicine.
It is dignity.
It is hope for a child who deserves a chance to become a future star.

Please give generously to the people of Jamaica, especially its children as we continue guiding young hearts toward brighter tomorrows.

With gratitude and hope,
Isiah’s Helping Hands