Photos of a Buddhist Temple's Struggles After the Tsunami in Japan When the earthquake and tsunami hit Japan last year, all but two of the 65 homes in Aramachi, a small community in Rikuzentakata, were destroyed. Sixteen residents died. That evening, 50 survivors crowded into a small building at the Buddhist temple complex that had been at the heart of this community of farmers for centuries. Cold, wet and scared, they spent the night praying and mourning. Halfway around the world in New York, Hiroko Maisuke, a photo producer for The New York Times, was building slide shows of images from the disaster. Ms. Maisuke, who is from Japan, had edited slideshows of many catastrophes before. But this time it struck a little closer to home - a home that had become increasingly distant during her 14 years living in the United States. Ms. Maisuke, who also photographs for The Times, vowed to return to Japan as quickly as she could. Two weeks later, she was in Aramachi photographing the destruction. "When I first saw a small temple that remained standing on top of the hill amid debris, I thought that was a miracle," she said. Every single city on the coastline was destroyed and there was so much debris that everywhere had, sadly, started to look the same to me. But I felt that temple was calling me to be there. When she arrived in Aramachi on March 28, there were 10 people, including Nobuo Kobayashi, the chief priest, living in the sole remaining building of the Kongoji Temple. Others had moved to the comfort of evacuation centers, but these residents had stayed - without electricity or running water - watching over the sanctuary and waiting for their missing relatives and neighbors to be found. At first Ms. Maisuke slept in her rental car so that she didn't impose on the residents who had lost so much. She declined their offers of food and water, not wanting to take scarce supplies away from them. But as the people inside the temple insisted, she moved in with them. Sleeping inside the temple building is usually prohibited because it is a sacred place. This time, there was no choice. "When I was going to sleep I thought about the history of the temple," said Ms. Maisuke, who is herself a Buddhist. I believe that the Buddha protected the people staying there. I prayed inside myself the whole time I was there. The refugees recovered the statues and religious objects which had been washed away or buried under mud and debris. After searching for many days, Takamasa Kobayashi, the son of the chief priest, found the most important statue, Gohonzon-sama. "When he found the statue, all the refugees at the temple had peace of mind - for a while," said Ms. Maisuke, 40. If that statue survived, that meant there was a future. On April 11, the monk rang the bell and people prayed at the exact time when the first tsunami had hit the area. A few days later, Ms. Masuike returned to her job as a photo producer in New York. She showed her photos to only a handful of people and promised herself that she would return and find out what happened to the people she had become so close to. Because of immigration issues, Ms. Masuike had visited her parents only five times since 1998. Observing the refugees of Aramachi who had lost family members made her reconsider her own life. "I started to think about what is life and what is family," she said. I decided I should see my parents more often, and take care of my parents more often, and I thought I should get married and build a family of my own. This week, during the days leading to the first anniversary of the earthquake and tsunami, Ms. Maisuke is back in Japan, photographing the residents of Aramachi. We'll check in with her later this week and share some of her new photos.