His name is St. Paul, a beautiful cathedral born in 1845 to the Church of England. The community celebrated its arrival with joy, and within a few short years, the original building could not contain the throngs of people finding respite and renewed hope. More space was added around the altar to make room for larger choirs, and bigger aisles were built for larger crowds. Exquisite stained glass was designed to tell the stories of triumph that were told within the walls of the sanctuary. A tower was erected, saints posting guard in all four corners, so that no one would miss the Church of St. Paul as they traveled through the town.

The cathedral is truly exquisite.

The story it tells now is not one of saints and sanctuary. It is a cautionary tale of the power and purpose of time.

Time.

I know. It’s an odd thing…