APRIL LEAB
Resilience, Faith, and the Power of Community
The night of December 10, 2021, felt like a scene straight out of a movie—horrific and surreal. In the hours leading up to the tornado, local news stations warned of an impending storm. Like many others, April Leab and her daughter took precautionary measures, though not as thoroughly as they might have in hindsight. They decided to stay at her cousin's house for safety. The kids put on softball helmets, a sobering precaution, before heading to a friend’s house just a block away.
They arrived about 20 minutes before the tornado struck Mayfield. Together, they huddled in the basement, listening intently to the news updates until the storm passed. When silence finally fell, signaling that the danger had passed, they began calling loved ones. Cell service, while fleeting, allowed them to make a few critical connections before it disappeared entirely.
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Once the immediate danger subsided, April and her cousin ventured out to check on their homes and animals. Her cousin’s property was largely intact, but the devastation across town was unimaginable. Driving to her own house, located two blocks south of the courthouse, was a harrowing journey. It took them two hours to traverse the short distance, dodging live electrical wires, navigating debris-filled roads, and enduring the eerie wail of sirens and the hiss of broken gas lines. The screams of people calling out for help from every direction still echo in her memory.
When she finally reached her home, April found the windows blown out and her yard in chaos, but her animals, thankfully, were safe inside. She boarded up the windows and returned to her cousin’s house, where they had the blessing of a generator. The next morning, daylight revealed more damage—a compromised foundation and a smashed car—but she counted her blessings. “Everybody was okay,” she said. That’s what mattered most. No injuries.
The days and weeks that followed were a blur of hard work and heartache. The world seemed to stop. No school. No work. Just survival and recovery. April joined her church, Gracelife, in feeding both volunteers and survivors, assisting with cleanup efforts, and delivering meals. Despite her own struggles, she helped others however she could, finding comfort in the collective effort to rebuild their community. The gift of a generator allowed her and her daughter to finally return to their home—a profound blessing in a time of turmoil.
What stood out most during those difficult days were the volunteers—people from all over who came to help. Their kindness, generosity, and selflessness were nothing short of divine. “Seeing people come together to help us was God-sent,” she reflected. She prayed daily for them.
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As Mayfield slowly recovered, with electricity restored and schools reopening, new challenges emerged. April’s daughter, understandably traumatized, developed a deep fear of storms and became hyper-fixated on weather forecasts. Their journey toward healing continued long after the tornado’s physical damage had been addressed.
About a year later, through an old colleague April had worked with in the past, she learned about the Mayfield Graves Long-Term Recovery Group (MGC LTRG). Skeptical at first, she didn’t expect much to come of it, as she felt opportunities like that rarely worked out in her favor. But when she received notice confirming she’d been assigned a case manager and would receive assistance, it felt like a direct answer to her prayers. “God had answered my year-long prayer of sending help for us,” she said. Working with MGC LTRG and Appalachia Service Project (ASP) was an incredible experience. She described them as “the best people around” and felt deeply grateful for the support they provided.
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Reflecting on that night and the aftermath, April knows it changed Mayfield forever. The devastation, the lives lost, and the months of recovery humbled her in profound ways. Yet, amidst the tragedy, she saw the best of humanity—the volunteers, the organizations that helped rebuild, and the neighbors who checked on one another. “It shows me that God is and always will be in control,” she concluded. December 10, 2021, was a night of unimaginable loss, but it was also a testament to resilience, faith, and the power of community.