By Kate Walters, American Red Cross

In a makeshift shelter echoing with the shuffle of anxious feet and the quiet murmur of grown-up worry, a corner of calm takes shape. Here, amid blocks, crayons, puppets, and toy kitchens, children are allowed to just be kids again.

When deadly tornadoes swept through Missouri and Arkansas earlier this year, the destruction was swift and indiscriminate. Homes were reduced to splinters, families displaced, and lives changed forever. Amid the chaos, a team from Children’s Disaster Services (CDS) quietly arrived, not to rebuild walls, but to mend spirits.

The CDS is a longtime partner of the American Red Cross in times of disaster. These trained volunteers bring more than toys. They bring trauma-informed care tailored to children navigating the aftermath of disaster.

Their mission goes beyond distraction; it’s about restoring a child’s sense of safety, encouraging emotional release, and sparking imagination in the most vulnerable survivors.

“They come in with their heads down and they’re not smiling. By the time they leave, we want to see a smile,” said one CDS volunteer. That simple, tender goal is at the heart of every interaction.

CDS centers aren’t classrooms or daycares, they’re sanctuaries. Volunteers don’t probe or press. There are no questions about destroyed homes or lost loved ones.

“We don’t ever ask them what happened. We just play. And it comes out,” a volunteer explained.

In one Missouri shelter, a young boy sat silently stacking Legos. Then, without looking up, he murmured: “They found my dog. He climbed under a cabinet in the kitchen and died in the tornado.”

Moments later, he added: “I lost all my clothes, but I’m gonna get some more Legos. Mom and Dad said we’re gonna get a new house.”

No tears, no theatrics, just a child processing trauma in the only language he knew: play.

Through time, the evolution of crayon sketches on shelter tables tells its own story. Early drawings were filled with dark clouds and rain. By the time they leave, children are sketching sunshine, flowers, and blue skies.

Children are also invited to “rebuild” homes using cardboard boxes, crafting pretend kitchens, refrigerators, and TVs. These symbolic gestures help them regain a sense of control and imagine a path forward.

The presence of CDS volunteers also brings comfort to parents grappling with their own loss. With their children in a nurturing, watchful space, parents can focus on essential tasks like meeting with relief workers or taking a moment to rest.

“We’re stress relievers for parents, and we help kids feel like someone is listening to them,” one volunteer shared.

In one shelter, a quiet little girl arrived with her siblings. A therapy dog brought in by police slowly drew the children near.

Eventually, the girl smiled and began to play. Her mother, watching from the side, whispered through tears: “That’s the most she’s smiled since this all started.”

CDS volunteers travel light but come prepared with sleeping bags, toys, art supplies, and the emotional tools to create a safe space out of any shelter. Their 27 hours of immersive, overnight training prepares them to respond with empathy, flexibility, and calm. They’re experts in redirection and support, skilled in navigating trauma without reopening wounds.

The tornadoes left behind scarred landscapes and shaken communities but through the compassionate work of Children’s Disaster Services, a measure of peace has returned to the youngest survivors.

Some drew sunshine where there had once been rain. Some rebuilt homes one cardboard wall at a time. Some just needed someone to sit beside them while they played.

And every one of them left carrying something they hadn’t come in with: a renewed sense that, somehow, the world might just be okay again.