Spare a thought for the inhabitants of Parque de la Reina, Tenerife.
Several years ago, when the population of our pueblo had reached a certain level, a plot of land was designated for a church. A huge hole was dug for the foundations and a couple of hundred people congregated to witness the Bishop consecrate the ground. The oldest local inhabitant was given the privilege of placing a daily paper in the specially-built little vault with the official Obispal papers.
Then nothing happened. A while later the vault was quietly and unceremoniously removed, presumably with its contents, the foundation hole was filled in and the site abandoned to become a dog toilet.
More years went by and then another hole appeared in a different place and this building went up - or rather, down. We were going to have a church after all, and this is its basement.
That's it - a basement. A priest comes once a week and says Mass on the stage using a table as an altar, the faithful sit on stacking chairs rather than pews, and there aren't any windows or bells, but half a church is better than none.