I have been with the new five- and four-year-olds for two weeks. All the kids are in new classes now. Everyone moved up a grade; that was a surprise! There are new babies in the baby class as well! They are so precious! Since this was my first week back since being sick, I was still in recovery. I had headaches almost every day, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. The five-year-olds found some handbells while I was with them. We sang Do-Re-Me from The Sound of Music and taught the kids the different hand signals for each note. They loved it! Another fun activity I participated in was a relay race with the five-year-olds. They needed me to even out the teams. The girl I passed my baton to was the fastest kid there. I was so impressed! One of the five-year-olds is fluent in English! I am not sure why; she told me her parents speak it at home, but she doesn’t know how they know English. Even though I was able to use more English, my Japanese is still something I am working on and improving. I had a broken, but understandable, conversation with one of the five-year-olds during lunch one day. It was cool to have a kid that I could communicate with easily. I have learned that my Apple Watch can be a translator, so I have started using it to understand simple words that I hear repeated by the children. We took the kids on a field trip to the park. This is not unusual, but it’s always a surprise what work we go to because it’s different each time. The one we went to this time was a far walk. It had me reflecting on how American schools don’t have this same luxury. Not only due to the lack of pedestrian streets, but also because many big elementary schools are on a large plot of land, and it would take 10 minutes just to walk from the entrance to the school to the sidewalk to go anywhere. The four-year-old class I was with had many students I had not interacted with before. In early childhood fashion, many of the new kids were testing their limits with me and how they could play with me. I had a little difficulty with some children climbing on me and similar behaviors because I did not have a good and consistent way to communicate boundaries with them. Thankfully, after a slight learning curve, I have figured out how to set boundaries with them. Now that everyone is familiar with who I am, the classes get sad when I have to leave and swarm me for high-fives and hugs. It is bittersweet because I am happy I have made a good impression, but it is sad to see them sad to see me leave. 

Music therapy was extra fun this time! I introduced a new game with the five-year-olds. It targets their divided attention and listening skills. I lined them up into two lines and placed an egg shaker between all of them. Then we all started singing the Japanese version of head-shoulders-knees-toes with the motions. The catch was that if I replaced a lyric with the word “shaker,” they had to reach for the shaker in front of them. The first person ot catch it won that round. It also helped the kids work on teamwork, because the kids who got out got to cheer on their competitor. After the first two rounds, the teachers wanted to join in too! The four-year-olds had an absolute blast with freeze dance! They have even started requesting it, they had so much fun. We worked on their colors in English and Japanese, which was needed. They have made progress, though, and that is exactly what music therapy is for!

I have started eating my lunch in the park near the nursery school since the weather has been so nice. Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop! It’s such a beautiful park, and it’s so peaceful eating there every day. It gives me a nice chance to clear my head and relax. Since the park is a public setting, I can call my friends on my lunch break! I talked to my besties Emma and Allie to catch up, and it was great. 

One day, on my way home, it was raining very hard. On my walk, I passed a mother with her young daughter. The daughter’s umbrella popped inside out, and it made the young girl laugh so hard. Her laughter was so contagious! It was nice that something so simple made a nice moment with some strangers, especially something that would normally be a bother. Children help show me the whimsy in life. 

My host brother Souta bought a goldfish. I am not sure where the fish is in the house. I have not seen it since he bought it. It seemed like the whole family was excited when we went to pick it out, so I am sure it is well taken care of! Hinata got a new game for the DS. It’s a game I recommended she play, and now she plays it all the time!! It makes me wish I had brought my DS, but I did not want to overpack, so I only brought my Nintendo Switch. Since it was Easter season over the weekend, I decided to fast for half of the day on Friday and then study the scriptures in the park on Saturday. While I was at the park, I met two guys who requested to take a video of me giving some kind words to their friends who are getting married. They showed me their project, and they had all kinds of people wishing their friends happiness, mostly foreigners. They asked me because they figured I was a Brazilian, but when I walked by them, I smiled, and that let them know I was an American. Smiling at strangers is an American giveaway. I ended up hanging out with them. It was nice to feel like I had some friends in Toyohashi, especially since one of them was fluent in English. On Easter Sunday, my (now-ex) boyfriend and I went on a break. It made it incredibly difficult for me to concentrate the following week. However, I pushed through it, and the kids at the nursery helped keep my mind off it. Then, the following Saturday, I was broken up with. It is gut-wrenching going through this in another country. However, it is showing me how strong I am. Although it makes it more challenging, it has not hindered my ability to show up and do volunteer work for the kids. The day after getting dumped, I went to Ghibli Park. I had bought my ticket months ago, and I was not going to let a man ruin my plans. I ended up having a great time! I made a new friend that I met through an English speakers group chat I am a part of. I had an extra ticket, so she used it. We both had a wonderful time and have a lot in common. We both love The Secret World of Arrietty. I bought so many souvenirs as well, and I cannot wait to decorate my place in America with my souvenirs.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve had the privilege to sit down with people and ask some really big, and sometimes really hard, questions. Questions about what it was like during the war, what they think of Kosovo today, and what they hope for in the future. These conversations haven’t always been easy — for some, it brings up painful memories, for others, it’s a reminder of how uncertain things still feel. And yet, each time I’ve asked someone to share their story, I’ve received the same unwavering response: “Anything for my country.” That phrase has really stuck with me. One of the things I’ve been especially curious about is how people my age — or even younger — connect to this history they didn’t personally live through. I’ve heard a range of answers, but one theme keeps coming back: it’s not about feeling weighed down by the past, it’s about feeling a responsibility to honor it. To do something with it. To help build something better because of it.

As I have begun brainstorming titles for my exhibition, I have been exploring various words to capture the complex story I wish to tell. The word forge has fascinated me. It shows up in so many different places — from blacksmithing to art — but two definitions in particular have really stuck with me. The first is to move forward slowly and steadily. The second is to move ahead with a sudden burst of speed and strength. They’re kind of opposites when you think about it — one is all about patience, the other about power — but both are about movement, about progress. That dual meaning feels like the perfect way to describe what I’ve been learning here in Kosovo. It’s a place that’s rebuilding brick by brick, conversation by conversation — but at the same time, when you zoom out and see how far it’s come in just 25 years, it’s honestly breathtaking. That’s why I’ve titled this exhibition Forging a Nation: Stories of Conflict, Resilience, and Identity. It captures both sides of the story — the steady climb and the sudden leaps forward.

Now, I’m getting ready to move into the next part of this project — the part where I start translating these stories and themes into visuals. That means creating photography, design, and media that reflects the complexity, strength, and emotion I’ve been lucky enough to witness in every interview. It’s a little intimidating, to be honest, but also exciting. This work isn’t just about putting images on walls — it’s about capturing lived experiences and finding a way to share them in a way that feels honest, personal, and human. I want the people who see this exhibition to feel something. To feel what I’ve felt here — that resilience isn’t always loud, that progress comes in many forms, and that stories, when shared, really do have the power to forge something new.

A lot has happened since my last update, so this will be a long one. Last weekend, I traveled to Amsterdam to meet up with my friend Elisabeth for our birthday (which was also Easter!). We had a wonderful weekend full of lively activities and leisurely moments. I adore Amsterdam, although the constant onslaught of determined cyclists whizzing past me at 100 mph had me a bit on edge as I wandered through the city. My good friend Liz happened to be in Amsterdam at the same time, so we had a lovely surprise meetup at a coffee shop, where we got yelled at for attempting to smuggle in bagel sandwiches. I learned lots of important facts in my exploration, my favorite being that tulip bulbs used to be so sacred and valuable that one would be worth more than a townhouse in the city centre. 

We did the classic Amsterdam things, like sampling cheese and taking a canal cruise, but we also found some cool experiences slightly off the beaten path. One of those was a storytelling night at Mezrab, where 6 professional storytellers told funny, embarrassing, delightfully embellished, heartbreaking, inspiring stories about a wide range of life events. As someone who greatly enjoys the craft of storytelling, I was inspired and engaged the whole time. Being involved in a place like Mezrab, as an organizer or a storyteller, would be a dream job for me. It’s cool to see the community and fun that a unique space like that can create. 

Instead of paying for entry to the iconic Keukenhof tulip gardens, we rented bikes and rode through 25 km of the surrounding area. It felt like some kind of magical teleportation through different lands, as we pedaled through fields of swaying technicolor tulips and patches of forested shade, navigated between eclectic shop facades and grassy dunes, and paused to take in the view at the beach and a lakeside cafe. I hadn’t ridden a bike in a long time, but I felt a deep sense of nostalgia remembering how I spent so many summer nights in childhood riding my bike at the college campus near my house. I would listen to music on my iPod Shuffle and think angsty thoughts about my vastly complex 8-year-old life. I never imagined that 15 years later, I’d be riding blissfully through the Dutch countryside. 

The birthday festivities concluded with a potluck dinner in Belfast. The word potluck might evoke mixed reactions if you grew up in the American South, but let me assure you that this potluck was the height of class and deliciousness. Offerings included leek and potato galette, balsamic onion cheese, and a mocha raspberry cake made by yours truly. It was so lovely to see my friends chatting and laughing effortlessly with each other, even though they had only just met. I felt a great sense of gratitude for the community I have built since arriving in September. Before arriving, I worried that it would be difficult to find people my age to connect with, but I’ve been lucky to find kind people around every corner in Belfast, and my birthday dinner was a nice celebration of that. 

I’ve also been continuing to enjoy occasional solitude–donning funky outfits to read in coffee shops (getting creative with the same clothes I’ve had here since September), cooking up a storm (I need to be eating at home after all that traveling, but it doesn’t have to be boring), exploring new walking routes (I discovered a pond with swans and a view of the hills!), replacing phone use with books and crafts (just finished Wuthering Heights for the first time), and finding cool events to attend (it turns out Belfast has a monthly storytelling night called Tenx9)!

Last but not least, work has been getting busier after the lull of Easter Break. Last week, fueled by matcha and excitement, we moved our belongings out of storage and into our new office space at The Crescent Arts Centre! It feels so nice to have a stationary home after floating through the last month in a combination of working from home and borrowing spaces for meetings. We’re not even close to being unpacked, but we’ve spent our first week here analyzing feng shui, rearranging furniture, stepping over boxes, and enjoying being together again. Yesterday, I built my first IKEA bookshelf! I’m feeling like a real Bob the Builder in the above photo, where I’m in what we were calling “bookshelf jail”. 

The school workshop team has spent some time reflecting on our practices and developing some new methods to try based on our observations. This week, we had three workshops, where we put our new ideas to the test. We were all a little rusty at the original format, which made it slightly difficult to incorporate new aspects, but I think a lot of the changes worked. For example, we decided to change the order of the collaborative writing of Chapter 1. Typically, we write the story line-by-line, finish with a cliffhanger, do some light editing, and lastly, vote on a title. In the new format, we write the story, stop before we get to a cliffhanger, vote on a title, edit, and put the cliffhanger in last. In the past, we have often struggled to get a good cliffhanger sentence on the first try. Our hypothesis was that by asking students to vote on a title and edit the story first, they would be able to better synthesize the plot and reflect on cliffhanger ideas, instead of feeling the need to impulsively decide on one before fully grasping the arc of the story or the concept of a cliffhanger. It has worked really well, which emphasizes the importance of continuously evaluating our practices, even when we have been doing them a certain way for a long time. Small changes like that can make a significant difference in the success of the story and students’ resulting sense of pride and confidence in their writing abilities. The above photo includes today’s cliffhanger, along with my expert illustration of the story’s events. Check out the full story here. I only have one month of working left, which makes me so sad! I am really going to miss the workshops and spending time with my Fighting Words colleagues. 

It is that time of year when kids are moving on to their new grade. These last two weeks started with the five-year-olds graduating. Monday was their last day, so I did a music therapy session with them to celebrate. We did multiple rounds of freeze dance to songs that are popular amongst their group, egg shaker games, and singing. They had lots of fun, and each got to stand up and make music for their peers. Sadly, it was the last time I would see this group of kiddos, but I know they will be successful kindergarteners! I was with the four-year-olds on Tuesday, Wednesday, and on Thursday I was with the three-year-olds. It was a typical week with them. I got Friday off due to the graduation ceremony for the five-year-olds. 

The school was in transition because the five-year-olds graduated and only came on Monday. The commotion of the teachers preparing for the new school year made my role a little less structured than it typically is. 

Since I will need to renew my visa in May, I am going to South Korea during Golden Week. I booked my flights to and from Seoul and filled out my customs declaration form to get back into Japan more smoothly. It was difficult to find the links to fill out my customs declaration, and I still need to see if there is anything I need to do to make Korea’s customs smoother. Hopefully, I will be fully prepared and have an easy transition through customs. 

I went on a picnic in Nagoya with my American friend Megan. She invited me, as well as other English speakers, to join her on a picnic in a beautiful park in Nagoya! There were food trucks, TONS of people, and the sakura was blooming. I had a blast and met some wonderful people I would love to see again. I connected with an American girl that I have a lot in common with, and one of the guys was into art and made a beautiful painting of the grand gazebo we were sitting by. My food was delicious, I got a taco and loaded fries! 

The next day, Kyoko took me to her salon to give me highlights and a haircut. She did wonderfully, and I loved how it turned out. Unfortunately, I threw up in the middle of the appointment! I did not think much of it, I assumed I had eaten something bad. As the day went on, I felt worse and worse. This led to a trip to the ER. We were worried I had appendicitis. Thankfully, I was clear of appendicitis, but I was very sick with my fever spiking at 102. Kyoko was a wonderful host mom through my sickness, though. She took great care of me and helped me not be afraid. It is a scary experience being so sick in a foreign country. If I had an illness that required more serious action, I would have been terrified of medical malpractice since I did not have the language to speak up for myself. All the glory to God that I was not that sick, but on the downside, I was bedridden for an entire week. In hindsight, I was extra tired and in a slump the week leading up to being sick. Maybe it was a warning sign, or maybe it was just the chaos of the school being in transition. Either way, being sick was miserable, but I recovered and am back in action as I am writing this. I experienced my first bout of homesickness while being sick. I missed my American comfort foods, my family, and my cushy bed and parents’ couch that reclines all the way back. I think it was just because I was sick that I felt this homesickness, since I was bedridden, bored, and lonely with very few foods I was able to keep down. Thankfully, by Saturday, I felt well enough to try to get back to my normal routine. It wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t want to be sick anymore.

Lately it’s felt like the start of summer in South England: clear blue skies, 20 degrees celsius, the sun beating down on the water. Everyone and their mother is out on days like these, and I’m grateful I get to see but a glimmer of Bournemouth as the summer-seaside destination that it is. On the warmest day of the year, my friends Catherine and Erica and I went to the beach to enjoy a classic Mr. Whippy ice cream cone and a walk along the water. We listened to the waves crash against the shore and traced our fingers in the sand; I’ll miss being this close to the ocean when I’m stateside. 

Mr Whippy on the beach

It’s been a very social few weeks! I’ve enjoyed several hangs with my church friends—they do such a great job at actively making me feel valued and included even though I’m new to the group. We’ve enjoyed an early-summer barbeque (featuring s’mores with digestives and a viewing of the ASDF movie compilation), a homemade dinner and house-tour in Salisbury, and takeaway fish and chips on the beach. I had my first co-write in Bournemouth, went to my friend Sebastian’s house for a lovely meal, visited an art gallery with my friend Mirek, played trivia with Alex, and enjoyed sunset runs with Run Club pals. Looking back at my life in September, I’m so grateful for the relationships I’ve developed and for how much more supported I feel now compared to then. 

BBQ with church friends (LR: Catherine, Erica, Joel, Leah, Isaac, Rosie)

The week before Easter holidays was big for The Story Works, because we had the unveiling of a hoarding installation that had been in the works since December. The installation contains art from our workshops and information about our charity down one of Bournemouth’s busiest streets. Not only is this great publicity for our charity, but our volunteers get to see their art in a public, professional space, and children get to see their ideas taken seriously. The installation is up for a year, and I’m proud of myself for making this happen by fostering a connection with Kier Construction—the company we partnered with to make this happen—and by curating the installation. Tom, our trustee, and I were interviewed about the project here. 

Following the unveiling, The Story Works had our final workshop before Easter break began. We tried a new format for this one: instead of children raising their hands to suggest ideas for the story, we split them into five groups (one for each category: main character, villain, sidekick, setting, and plot) and each child would individually write down and contribute an idea. We tried this as a way to get the quieter kids involved, and I think we will incorporate this method into future workshops. I was a very shy elementary schooler, so having the additional time to brainstorm and write down an idea would’ve helped me to contribute. 

Next up is Easter holiday! As I write this, I have just returned from traveling through Italy, Austria, and Holland—but more on that next week! 

Until next time,

Elisabeth

When I was little, one of my favorite things to do was sift through the bins of our family photographs. I’d sit with my mom and sisters, sorting baby pictures into piles, laughing at the hairstyles of the ’80s, and freaking out at photos of my parents with exes I’m happy they didn’t end up with. These moments always ended the same way—me noticing that my pile of baby pictures was noticeably smaller than my two older sisters’ and therefore throwing a fit. Still, those times remain some of my most cherished memories. Family photographs are more than just pictures; they are powerful markers of our identity and belonging. They tell stories we may have forgotten, bring loved ones back into the present, and offer glimpses into lives we didn’t get to experience firsthand.

So, when I began conceptualizing this exhibition, I knew that photography would play a crucial role in the telling of this story. I began researching photographic practices specific to Kosovo and came across an academic article by Zanita Halimi titled “Photographic Practices among Albanian Families in Kosovo.” The piece explores the ways families sought to preserve their photos during the 1998–99 Kosovo War, offering insight into the emotional and historical weight that images can carry. 

Halimi outlines three categories of preservation practices during the diaspora. The first being families who had no time to take photos with them due to the urgency of fleeing for their lives. The second group is those families who brought their photos with them despite warnings that soldiers might destroy them. And the third includes families who chose to hide their photos before deportation–burying them in hopes that, no matter what happened, someone would one day find them and know who had lived there, what they looked like, and what had been lost.

During one of my recent interviews, I discovered a fourth category—families who chose not to leave at all because of their photographs. The participant shared with me that she was just seven years old when the war reached her small town of Vushtrri. Soldiers gave her neighborhood a single hour to evacuate, warning that anyone who stayed would be killed. Her family, however, made the impossible choice to stay behind, for one reason: they couldn’t bear to leave behind the only photograph they had of her older brother, who had fled the country before the war began.

“My mom only had one photo of him, but the frame couldn’t fit in a suitcase. I think it’s so dumb—that’s the reason we stayed. But we didn’t go out. So every single second, every single day, we were just waiting for the soldiers to come and kill us. The town was empty. It was just our family, and the horses, sheep, and cows that people set free.”

This story stopped me in my tracks. It reminded me that photographs aren’t just keepsakes. They’re fragments of people’s lives, holding emotions and memories too sacred to be left behind. They are proof of existence: of who we were, who we loved, and who we continue to carry with us. Photographs can open doors, bridge generations, and breathe life into stories that history books may overlook. But they can also represent something much deeper: the lengths we’ll go to protect our identity, preserve our legacy, and ensure that, no matter what happens, someone remembers we were here.

Work has been pretty unconventional since our unceremonious eviction from Connswater. My colleagues have been joking about how many weird tasks you end up doing when you work for an arts organization, and this move has definitely had us doing some odd jobs. The day before we found out we would have to move out of Connswater, we had 40 brand new beanbag cubes delivered to our workshop space there. It was a coincidence of tragic timing. These cubes are gorgeous, multi-colored and corduroy, and we really did not want to have to give them up. We debated for weeks about what to do with them and researched lots of options for returning them, giving them away, or keeping them. We ended up deciding to store all 40 of them in my coworker’s flat, at least temporarily. That is why last Friday, Marnie, Aoife, and I spent the morning moving 40 beanbags (individually boxed) out of Connswater and into Aoife’s flat. It was a tedious process, but the beanbags were blessedly light and we got the job done in record time. 

I laughed to myself because this certainly isn’t what I pictured myself doing when I planned this project a year ago, but I am just happy to be along for the ride. Our move from Connswater has forced all of us to adjust our expectations and plans for Fighting Words, but it hasn’t detracted from the quality of the experience at all. Work looks different than I thought it would– I’m delivering workshops in schools instead of in our workshop space, working from home and coffee shops more than in an office, and stepping up for the unique needs of each new day. We have been able to assemble the team for in-person meetings semi-regularly, and it’s nice to see everyone and offer encouragement to each other. Next week, we will move into our new office space at The Crescent Arts Centre, so we’ll get to put down some roots and feel more settled. I’m excited to see what this next chapter of Fighting Words work brings!

My other big update is that I went to Barcelona! It was one of my favorite trips I’ve ever been on. I wandered in parks for hours, ate patatas bravas and paella (which I’ve been dreaming about since my trip to Madrid in November), finished 2 books, went to a transcendent jazz show, got inspired to try jazz flute, had a sunset beach picnic, made a friend in my hostel, admired so much funky architecture, and took things really slowly. I love Spanish culture– people stop to dance in the street when they hear live music, take long lunches, people-watch from sidewalk patios, and socialize late into the night. There is a leisureliness to life, an emphasis on joy and connection over work and productivity.

I have gotten to taste this leisureliness over the last 8 months because I have had the privilege of working on a Lumos project. However, I will soon enough be returning to life in America. I’ll be working lots, taking classes, adjusting to a new city, building community from scratch again, and jumping back into the fast and busy pace that I knew throughout all four years of college. It will probably be jarring. I’ve gotten used to the luxurious ability to be able to stop and smell the roses, to linger in pleasant moments and embrace spontaneity. I’m not delusional enough to believe anyone can simply choose this lifestyle– I know it’s an immense privilege and I’m unbelievably grateful to be able to experience it. However, I do think there are ways I can bring some lessons that I’ve learned and practices I’ve adopted back home with me, so that I can continue to make time for mindful relaxation and observant gratitude even when I’m in the whirlwind of a busy life. Being here has taught me how important that is.

These past two weeks I was with the babies, and then back to the five-year-olds. Babies are precious. Many are walking, but a couple can only take a few steps before falling over. They have the most contagious smiles. Babies are one of my therapeutic strengths, and it is always fun to observe their developmental state. I can see how they are processing the nursery they are in, cause and effect, and the different stages each child is in. The five-year-olds seem so big after being with the infants! They are fun, though! I got to play a lot of games with them. They taught me new card games like speed and old maid. I taught them how to shuffle. Well, I taught some of them how to shuffle, and some of them had difficulty figuring it out, but that’s okay. They also liked playing dodgeball with me. They play dodgeball differently here than I am used to. They only used one ball, and if you got hit, you got sent to the out-of-bounds zone behind the other team. You need to get everybody on the opposite team into your out-of-bounds zone to win. However, being out of bounds does not mean you are out of the game. If a ball goes out of bounds, a player on the out-of-bounds team has to get the ball, and they can try to get someone who is still in, out (why they have to be on the side of the opposite team). If they successfully get someone from the opposite team out, they can go back into their team’s square. I hope I explained that well; it’s hard without a visual aid. I also got to play jump rope with the kids, which was super fun! One little girl got over 100 jumps in! I played with them so much that the children began to pick up on English phrases like “Nice catch!” One five-year-old asked me to put my signature on one of her drawings after I came back from a lunch break. Although I found it a little odd, I signed her picture. After I did that, everybody suddenly wanted my autograph. I told the teacher I felt famous. Now, there are a large number of five-year-olds in Toyohashi that have my autograph. I got to practice my hiragana with the kids, and I helped them practice their English characters. I even got to show them the difference between cursive and print. During some downtime, I taught the five-year-olds how to play ninja. It was the best worst decision I made because the kids loved it. They loved it so much that it was the only thing we played for the rest of the day… we had two hours left. They all ganged up on me as well. It was funny seeing how excited they got when they got me out, but they did not even care about playing until there was a winner. Once I got out, they all took it as a collective win. I am glad they enjoyed the game. 

Music therapy with the babies was a huge success. The week was cut short due to the closed nursery, so I did my session earlier in the week. I did a lot of fine motor activities, encouraging the babies to follow instructions and manipulate their fingers. I did a counting song with visuals on my iPad for them to count. I let each baby try strumming on my guitar for sensory integration. I also did the adapted freeze dance. There was one baby girl in particular that hit a specific pose every time I froze. I was impressed because it appeared the infants understood the cues better than the one-year-old class. The teachers enjoyed the session and were so impressed that they specifically requested I do a session for them again the following week! The week I was with the five-year-olds, I went to a different facility for music therapy. The facility I went to was for children with various disabilities. The property the nursery school is located on has other facilities dedicated to other groups. I was not sure what to expect in terms of age and abilities, so I prepared a lot of activities. Fortunately, I was able to use many of the interventions I used with the babies’ group for the disability group. The group consisted mostly of infants and toddlers and were accompanied by their parents. It went great! I felt very professional being able to adapt so quickly and still have a successful session. I hope I get to do more sessions at this facility. After my session, I was unexpectedly asked to do another session that week with the babies at the nursery school. Even though it was short notice, I am a professional and said yes. It was another successful session. I added some new activities I had not done with them before, like egg shaker songs. 

After my session at the alternate facility, at the end of my day, I was preparing to walk home when Nobu and Souta showed up! They yelled at me from their car and asked if I wanted to get crepes with them on the way home. It was a delightful surprise that I graciously accepted! There is a local crepe place owned by my host family’s friends, so we go there relatively regularly. I can’t complain because the crepes are delicious! Later that day, I showed my host brother the game Nintendo Switch Sports. He has a Nintendo Switch, but he doesn’t have that game. I knew he would love it, and he did. He said, “One more round,” about eight times. I let him borrow my Switch to keep playing while I got ready for bed. He was very grateful. 

I traveled to Nagoya the week that the nursery was closed on Thursday and Friday. Stepping into Nagoya felt like a 2000s movie scene where the main character gets out of the taxi in the big city for the first time. I walked out of the subway station and was greeted by tall city buildings and huge streets. It was a stark contrast from my little town of Toyohashi. I went to Nagoya to see a friend from Belmont who was working as a missionary. She was holding an event at her apartment for young adults who speak English. It was so refreshing being around people who speak my native language! I had a blast and made some friends I hope to keep for a long time! We played Jackbox, ate taco rice and brownies, and got to know each other. Fortunately for me, Megan (my Belmont friend) let me spend the night at her apartment since my journey back would take so long. The following morning, she took me to brunch, and it was the most delicious breakfast I have had since arriving here. My host mom is wonderful at cooking, but this food was exquisite. I will put a picture in so you can see what I ate. On my way back to Toyohashi, I met a kind man who asked me about my motion sickness goggles (In English!). I was able to tell him that I was living in Toyohashi and why in Japanese! He was only visiting the town to go to a museum, but he was curious about my funny goggles. The following weekend, I went to Sanrio Puroland in Tokyo with my host sister. Since the Shinkansen is so expensive, we took a bus company. It took us about 6 hours to get there and then 7 hours to get back. On the way back, we went on an overnight sleeper bus, which was a rougher sleep than on the plane ride here. Sanrio Puroland was very cute, though. I got to take cute pictures and get cute merchandise I am going to cherish for a long time. 

I ended up going to the doctor because my fingers had gotten itchy, dry, and flakey, amongst other things. I have never had eczema before, but that is what the doctor thinks I might have. It does run in my family. The appointment and medications were shockingly cheap, and I applied for an insurance claim as well. It was just hard to believe how affordable it was before insurance. However, I learned that the Japanese people have extremely high taxes to lower the cost of healthcare.

I’ll pick up right where I left off: St Paddy’s weekend in Belfast. I spent the Irish holiday with my friends Eleri and Adam, and we engaged in activities such as: recapping our lore across five hours and three locations, sharing a Shamrock shake on a late-night drive and blasting Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”, writing emotional music in Adam’s living room, and exploring town centre’s festivities in all green attire. It was good to see friends and have a reset.

Me and Adam jamming out

I’ve been a little tired lately, and I think one thing is to blame—I’ve been running a lot. I mean a lot. In the span of just over a week, I ran two separate races (SPAR 10k and the Bournemouth Bay 5k), completed two long runs of 18+ miles, and tried to complete my midweek workouts. Marathon training has been going well, but it has sucked the life out of me, making it more difficult to be fully present and energized at work and social events. 

Despite that, it’s been a full couple of weeks. Workshops have carried on as normal, and I attended my final songwriting workshop. This was a feedback session where the students listened to everyone’s song and gave two things they liked and one thing that could be improved upon. Listening to everyone’s song, I was so blown away by these kids’ creativity and their willingness to try something new. Most of them had never written a song before, and each song captured the spirit and personalities of those who wrote it, which I see as a mark of success. Designing and teaching my own songwriting course was one of my primary goals during my time here, and I’m proud of myself for making it happen.

Beyond workshops, I’ve been carrying on the small tasks that make up the role of Charity Manager: ordering T-shirts, designing our fundraiser poster, compiling data from feedback sheets, scheduling future workshops, writing grant applications, so on and so forth. I love how flexible my job is—no two days are ever the same. 

Lydia and me in the Oxford station

My free time has mostly been taken up by trips and social events, some planned and some spontaneous. My friend Lydia was passing through Oxford one Sunday, so I decided at the last minute (literally thirty minutes before the train departed) to spend my evening with her. Over the weekend I visited my friend Maddie, one of the charity’s student volunteers, in her hometown of Bristol. We walked in on a choir rehearsal in Bristol Cathedral, toured the city’s art (including two pieces by Banksy), and watched Puss in Boots 2. The next day I visited Salisbury to have lunch with a few friends from church, and I was so impressed by the city. I got there early to tour the lovely cathedral (home to 1 of 4 copies of the Magna Carta), stroll along the River Avon, and enjoy a pastry in the old market centre. Lastly, I played my last full-band show in Bournemouth!

Maddie and me in Bristol

With my friends Elisha and Isaac in Salisbury on Mother’s Day

Until next time,

Elisabeth

On March 8, 2025, we celebrated fourteen years of New Hope Girls, International Women’s Day, and the book launch of “I Am Joy!” We threw a big, bright, colorful party for our staff, girls, and friends. Every year, they celebrate more girls rescued and more women providing for their families with honor. Now, we are celebrating all that and the milestone of safely sharing those stories of hope, grit, and grace with our supporters. It also marks the beginning of my last month here…but also the celebration of the last successful 8 months.

(Scroll to the bottom for a link to the book!)

Our theme this year was “Yo Soy” — I am. This is a central theme in Joy’s new book, “I Am Joy.” Before rescue, our girls are called names that don’t reflect who they are. So, when a girl is rescued, her picture is taken and before it is put on the community board with the others, our caregivers ask her to declare her new identity. On that bulletin board, we have “I am light,” “I am a princess,” “I am a daughter,” and more. This is New Hope’s first step into identity work and healing so they can just be little girls! It’s a joy to witness a once cautious and hesitant young girl begin to smile and eventually play in the yard. Free to be a kid, reclaiming girlhood as something good, fun, and not dangerous. As we sat beneath beautiful orange and pink paper lanterns with our friends, we chose to celebrate the months of hard work and restored identity, and of many girls rescued.

It was beautiful to see how excited the women in the workshop were for the book. That was their boss, and they were proud to work with her! They excitedly grabbed their preferred flower crowns before arrangling themselves in front of the 5ft book cover cutout for a photo. Joy posed with them when she could as they hugged and offered her a word of congratulations. These parties are a time of mutual appreciation and celebration. The whole organization together! It’s beautiful. We all work together to help make it happen.

The little girls absolutely love preparing for this party. I was sort of surprised when I went over to the house the night before and found 20 girls running toward me, excitedly asking to let them help with chairs or hang paper lanterns. I was surprised, but then I remembered my own childhood and how accomplished I felt when the streamers everybody loved had been hung by me, or if I got to help make the punch everyone enjoyed. It’s fulfilling to be responsible for good things, and these girls very eagerly desire to be part of something good. All thirty girls prepared a dance as well, looking graceful as they waved beautiful multi-colored ribbons as they twirled. The paper lanterns that hung overhead really were a nice touch.

As the program continued, women sang and played musical instruments, declaring glory to God and we listened as women from our workshop shared their testimonies of restoration and growth. These women inspired stories of great hope and international collaboration. The book and the bags will reach many people. When I visit the workshop, I try to remember that. The bags are our arms of outreach. Women are proud to wear the bags, knowing where the funds go and what cause it supports. It’s a big deal, and I don’t take this lightly. It’s an honor to sit at the table among them.

At the center of our circular tables sat tiles ready for decoration. With every color available, each woman and girl drew herself on the tile, expressing her new identity.

Yo soy Luz — I am Light.
Yo soy Amor — I am Love.
Yo soy Esperanza — I am Hope.

As I worked for Joy, she often emphasised the importance of art therapy and how much she enjoyed it for herself and the girls. I’ve said it more than once, but we can only create during times (maybe just brief moments) of safety. Creating art is the antithesis to war and evil, but it is still a political act, often of resilience, reflection, commentary, or overcoming. But to me, that’s why art matters. When Joy and I were piecing together the book, we read and reread while she wrote and rewrote dozens of pages of difficult narratives. In the past 11 years of New Hope Girls, Joy remarked that it never felt like the right time to write down their stories. Now, it is. Giving these stories the honor they deserve has blessed me greatly, and helped me grow in my intended career, understanding of the world, and as a person in general.

By the end of the party, over sixty tiles were collected for pieces in a mosaic of uniquely perfect reminders. Each tile is a reminder of a restored identity. As I looked at over sixty of our New Hope sisters and daughters, I remembered our organization’s founding scripture:

“But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (I Peter 2:9 KJV).

This verse is so important it seems to the organization because it fights back against the nihilistic worldview that bad things happen, there is no way out of it, and that is the end. Worse, a lie our rescued girls often fight is that they deserve the bad things that have happened to them, and they may spend their whole life convincing themselves otherwise. But this verse helps, because it offers a new perspective, one akin to how a proud father may view his own family. Promises that you are created for a bigger purpose, that you can be a light in a dark place, that you are a part of a team. These are important reminders for our girls: that you are much, much more than the bad things that happened to you.

After the party ended, I photographed every single woman and girl, printing the photo and handing it to her. Sisters and friends smiled for the camera with flowers in their hair and their tile mosaics in their hands. Yet another reminder that we are created for more—that we can accomplish many things! Writing books, moving to another country to edit one, learning to sew, enjoying the freedom and safety of girlhood for the first time, pursuing a career as a caregiver, and more. We need it all.

Happy Birthday, New Hope!

Order the book here: “I Am Joy” by Joy M. Reyes