ROWLEY -- The history of St. Mary Parish is piled into a small box on a kitchen table.

The flakes of white, waxy dust line the cardboard interior like snow lines the roads outside the church. Parishioner Anne Girard uses a knife to scrape old, worn-down candles into the box. The gritty work typically takes two or three hours. Into the box go the impurities, the burnt bits, everything that must be sloughed off for the candles to be melted, molded, and reborn in time for the Easter season. In the flakes, Girard sees "the pain, the injury, the woundedness" of past years.

"You're giving it all new life," she said.

Since the 1970s, St. Mary's has made its paschal candles out of the candles used for Masses and adoration during the previous year. St. Mary is one parish consisting of two churches -- one in Georgetown and one in Rowley -- so two paschal candles are required each year. What was originally a cost-saving measure is now a spiritual act. Girard prays for herself and her parish as she cleans the charred remains of the past.

"I find this a very spiritual activity, kind of like chipping away the dullness of our sins," she said. "Kind of like a purification, like the Sacrament of Reconciliation."

Something of those earliest candles still remains after all these years. That wax has witnessed everything since the 70s: Members of St. Mary's choir appearing as extras in the 2000 movie "The Perfect Storm;" the parish opening its doors for people to pray and mourn after the Sept. 11 attacks; the merger of the two churches into a single parish in 2006; and, recently, the Oblate Missionaries of Mary Immaculate taking the reins of the parish. Girard, a parishioner at St. Mary's since 1989, has worked on the candles for a decade. She worked through losing her grandson in utero and through learning how to walk again after having a tumor removed from her spine.

"It was a sad time in my life," she said. "You still show up. You do it, absolutely. I walk in faith."

During the pandemic, she and her candle-making partner Kurt Annen worked while wearing masks. They are but two of the volunteers who have made candles for the parish throughout the years.

When The Pilot visited St. Mary's on March 1, Girard scraped away the impurities while Annen melted the old candles in a big pot in the church basement. Both have visited Europe and think their candles can go toe-to-toe with the best in that continent's great churches.

"I personally think of how it's going to be used," said Annen, his hands caked in wax. "The Easter celebration, weddings, funerals, baptisms. We're doing something that has that kind of meaning, and lasts throughout the years."

He called one of the candles due for melting a "failed attempt from last year."

"It's spiritual," Girard said. "God turns ugly things into beautiful creations."

The wax is melted until it is a hazy off-white color, then poured into molds and allowed to harden. A deep "cauldron" is used to catch excess wax. Back when the tradition was new, the bottom fell out of the mold, and wax splattered all over the floor. The paschal candle used to be a four-inch mold, but is now three inches to make it easier to carry. The first few three-inch candles would get stuck in the mold.

"Talk about praying," Girard joked.

"We're still perfecting that a bit," Annen said.

The candles' wicks are braided from three strands, representing the Holy Trinity. Once done, the candles are decorated by hand, lit at the Easter vigil, and dedicated to all of those in the parish who have died.

"I feel like when we light these candles, when we make them, it's our time," Girard said. "It's prayer, it's works of love and mercy and prayer at the same time, and when they're lit, there's a feeling of joy."