Disaster tests Japan survivors' spirit

Megan Towey is a CBS News producer based in Miami. She's currently on assignment in Japan.

Times of crisis and strife have a tendency to bring into focus the things about people which define who they are and what matters to them.

For some people, that's feeding their families. In the days after the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, lines outside the few open grocery stores attested to the sense of responsibility in providing for loved ones. In Sendai, where electricity remains out in a vast majority of the city, we chatted with people who waited in line for two hours for cooking fuel. There was only one man pumping the gas, and he alternated between filling up cooking stoves and gas tanks.

Complete Coverage: Disaster in Japan

For others, with loved ones and friends still missing, finding those people has become the most important thing. In Ishinomaki, we encountered two women carrying homemade signs on scrap paper and cardboard. Their signs bore the name of a colleague who had tried evacuating with them the day of the earthquake. They made it to high ground, but he turned back to see what was happening. They haven't seen him since. These two women were so desperate for information about their friend that they walked through town in near-freezing temperatures displaying their signs. Their hope was someone would see the name and be able to tell them what had happened to him.

And for still others, the most important thing is to have faith.

On the northern edge of Sendai, Harry Smith, photographer Randy Schmidt and I came across a cemetery that had been flooded and torn apart by the tsunami. Cemeteries in Japan are beautiful gardens built of black or white granite - tributes to the dead.

Our translator, Yamaki, described the process to me. The ashes of ancestors are encased in earthen pots and placed inside the concrete base of the tomb. Over time, the pots break down. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The family tombs hold a place of honor in the hearts and minds of future generations.

This cemetery, however, was heavily damaged and covered in debris. Rusty nails stuck out of wooden slats that blocked the pathways, mud sucked at the soles of our boots and we had to step carefully to avoid poisonous snakes resting in the muck.

Next to the cemetery, a Buddhist temple still stood, but ocean water had ripped apart the interior of the house of worship. The tsunami tore sacred scrolls from the walls and scattered them about the temple. Like the Stages of the Cross tell the story of Christ's crucifixion to a Christian, Yamaki told me, these wall hangings depict the life of Buddha. Not wishing to cause offense, we proceeded inside the temple with even greater care than we had used in avoiding deadly reptiles.

A husband and wife walked through the granite garden, trudging through the mud searching for the gravesite of the woman's parents. They lived 30 miles away and had been trying to get to the cemetery for days. Tsunami warnings had prevented them from getting their sooner.

They described to us their relief at finding the temple still standing. There was hope in their eyes.

"The temple holds the spirit," the man told us. And although it was heavily and visibly damaged, his temple -- and his spirit -- were still standing.