A Grave Situation.

Things are looking up.

St. John’s, Antigua – We’re greeted by steel drums, snackettes and open sewers that threaten to ensnare unaware tourists.

A few shorebirds salute lazily between equally paced clouds.

Looming above the city, perched on a central hill, stands St. John’s Cathedral – also known as St. John the Divine. Its third incarnation, built in 1847, is immediately recognizable for the two tall towers rising from its roof.

The Cathedral hangs there like a weather-beaten halo.

Over the years, its face has been pockmarked by repeated storms and earthquakes. Windows wink with missing panes.

Broken pieces lay wrinkled on the lawn: doors, shutters and marble tombstones have been stacked like jagged teeth forcibly knocked out. Most are so old family likely no longer visits.

The building’s pain is obvious, and testament to nature usually winning, regardless of faith. Crossing the threshold, however, we’re greeted by rib after rib of light wood pew in high polish.

Despite the punishment the building has endured, its heart is obviously strong.