By Natasha Nedrick Adzudzor
Friday, May 16 began as one of those perfect summer days in St. Louis—clear blue skies, warm sunshine and not a cloud in sight. I spent the morning at the St. Louis Zoo with my 15-month-old son and my mom right before the big summer rush. I watched him marvel at the animals and we shared laughs as we watched the Sea Lion Show together. It truly felt like the perfect day to rest and spend time with family.
By the afternoon, I was out running errands, busy as usual on my day off. That’s when my mom called frantically, “Golf ball-sized hail is headed our way, come home.” I hurried back just in time. Within minutes, hail began pelting down. I have never seen a storm move so fast. Thankfully, the hail was smaller than expected.
Then came the tornado warning—first on my mom’s phone, which I initially dismissed as a glitch since the city’s sirens hadn’tsounded. But moments later, the sirens wailed. I grabbed my toddler and rushed to the basement, praying for safety. When the storm finally passed, we emerged to find the sun shining again. We were shaken, but unharmed.
It wasn’t until later that we learned the truth: there had been a glitch in the city’s tornado siren system, caused by human error. While our siren was delayed, the siren warning people directly in the tornado’s path never went off, costing precious minutes—and, heartbreakingly, lives were lost in the city.
As news trickled in, the true scale of the disaster became clear. The tornado stretched 22 miles long and, at its widest, was a mile across. The neighborhoods between my home and my church—historic communities where families have lived for generations—were devastated. Homes were reduced to rubble in a matter of minutes. Streets were lined with shattere
d glass and splintered wood. Tractor trailers were tossed on their sides like children’s toys. Residents picked through debris where their roofs once stood, now exposed to the sky.
Churches, the pillars of these communities, have been damaged and some destroyed. Today, there is still no electricity. There is no FEMA presence. No national disaster declaration. People are relying on the kindness of neighbors, and churches like Central Baptist Church, which took our Community Meal program mobile today. We served hot meals to those who had lost nearly everything, but the need is overwhelming.
The stories are gut-wrenching. One man shared with me how his home, passed down from his mother, was his pride and joy. He had poured his heart into remodeling it, making it beautiful. Now, it’s gone—wiped away in an instant. Many others are facing the same loss. To make matters worse, so many are uninsured or underinsured, staring at a future of uncertainty.
We are deeply grateful for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, who has partnered with Central Baptist Church as we prepare to rebuild. Your support helps families meet immediate needs—like paying for food, because everything in the fridge has spoiled. Every act of generosity, every meal served, every neighbor who lends a hand brings us one step closer to healing.
This is a crisis that will take months, if not years, to recover from. The heartbreak is palpable and trust has been broken. But we believe healing, recovery and hope will prevail. Our community’s spirit is strong, and while the road ahead is uncertain, we know we are not walking it alone. With compassion, determination and the support of neighbors near and far, we will rebuild—restoring not just homes and churches, but the bonds that make St. Louis a place we are proud to call home. Together, we will rise from this tragedy.
Your gifts to CBF Disaster Response help change lives and make stories of hope like this possible. Please give generously at https://www.classy.org/give/611172/#!/donation/checkout
Natasha Nedrick Adzudzor serves as pastor at Central Baptist Church in St Louis, Mo.