When the Call Came from Jamaica: A Mother’s Plea for Autism Support

The phone rang several times from an unknown Jamaican number. At first, I ignored it. But eventually, I called back, thinking maybe it was one of my family members trying to reach me.

A woman answered. Her voice was unfamiliar. She told me her name, which I didn’t recognize. She said she got my number from an agency. Confused, I asked, “What agency gave you my number?” She explained:

“A lady came out to Jamaica last year. Her name was Charlene. She gave me her card. She said she helps kids with disabilities.”

That’s when I realized—she was talking about me.

She continued, almost hesitantly:

“I’ve been meaning to call for a long time. But I was afraid. Now, I really need help. I have no money for food, no clothes, no school supplies. My son—the boy, the one who gives me all the talking—he needs to go back to school. Please, is there any way you can help?”

Now, for anyone outside of Jamaica, that phrase might sound confusing. She wasn’t literally saying her son was speaking—because he cannot verbalize; he’s on the spectrum. In Jamaican culture, when a parent says a child “gives a lot of talking,” it doesn’t mean words. It means the child is the one who gives a lot of challenges, the one who requires more attention. In her way, she was saying: “That’s the boy with special needs—the one who needs extra care.”

At that moment, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I introduced myself: “This is Charlene—the one who came to Jamaica and did the autism event.”

She paused, then softly said, “Yes… that’s you. I was wondering if you could help me. Help me get food, clothes, school supplies—anything you could do, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Two Feelings at Once

When I hung up, I laughed and cried at the same time. Not because her need was funny—but because of the irony. Here I was, still trying to figure out how to send my own kids back to school—I hadn’t even bought them pencils yet. And now, God was sending me another child to help.

Instead of having five kids on my back-to-school list, suddenly, I had six.

But in that moment of need, I also felt excitement. This call showed me that what I started in Jamaica last year mattered. Someone still held onto my card. Someone still remembered. And when she needed help, she trusted to reach out.

Faith and Purpose – and the Education We Need

I am a woman of faith. The Bible says: “Ask, and you shall receive. Seek, and you shall find. Knock, and the door will be opened.”

This mother did not go out and steal. She didn’t rob anyone. She simply asked. And that spoke volumes to me.

But her words also reminded me of how much education is still needed in Jamaica. It reflects love, but it also reveals how little formal understanding there is about autism.

This is where awareness matters. Without the right words, families cannot properly explain their child’s needs. Without resources, children are misunderstood. And without education, stigma continues to grow. Parents often feel isolated—unsure where to turn, ashamed of asking for help, or left relying only on faith when what they need are both faith and resources.

That phone call made it clearer than ever: my vision for opening an autism support center in Jamaica for both children and caregivers isn’t just a dream, or a placeholder in my head. It cannot remain an idea on paper. It is a dire need—for education, for parent training, for access to therapies, and for a place where families can find hope.

My Takeaway

Sometimes God sends reminders in unexpected ways. That call showed me that even when I feel stretched thin, my purpose is bigger than me. Families in Jamaica are waiting. They need education, resources, and support.

And if one mother was brave enough to ask, imagine how many more are silently praying for the same help.

This experience only deepens my mission: to build a center in Jamaica where families like hers—and children like her son—can find the support, education, and hope they deserve. 💙

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