Acts of Service as a Spiritual Practice
Katie Vhay with a powerful reminder of our human interconnectedness
Welcome back to our two-month series of guest posts on contemporary spiritual practices. Today’s post is close to my heart for a few reasons: first, our guest author, Katie Vhay, is someone I’ve never met in person (though I hope to someday!) but rather connected with through the magical side of social media. I’ve learned a great deal from Katie, who shares honestly about her experiences living with chronic illness and disability, and am grateful for her thoughtful comments on and interaction with my work over the years. Second, mass incarceration and our deeply biased, inhumane criminal justice system are issues that get me riled up; here, Katie shares a rather beautiful and elegant way that she enacts her values around these issues, which is inspiring me to think about how I might do the same. xoxo, Nishta
Acts of service were a big piece of how my Catholic family lived out our faith when I was growing up. I have memories of the service projects at church my family would do annually around Christmas and Mother’s Day, which were always highlights of my year. I spent a decade in my late teens and twenties without a church home, though I was still spiritually connected and engaged in service projects. In 2019, I started attending a Unitarian Universalist church which aligns with my social justice values. That was a key community connection for me during the early pandemic, and I became an official member during a Zoom service in 2021. I am also involved virtually with Middle Church, a progressive Christian church in NYC.
I have always believed in God, though my image and understanding of what that means has changed drastically over the years. There have been times of my life when I felt God’s presence strongly. Now, I see the spark of the Divine in my relationships, in community, music, nature, and by giving back. I got involved with a local books-to-prison organization in 2015. I started with this program because I love reading and believe that literacy and education are human rights. I spent many years babysitting and working with young children, but I never expected to serve adult readers in prison. I love that books can offer people the chance to mentally escape confinement, heal from trauma, learn new skills, and prepare for jobs on the outside.
The way the program works, people in institutions in all 50 states send letters requesting books. Then, volunteers match the letters with donated books that fit the person’s interests, then wrap and mail packages. The recipients can keep the books or donate them to the prison library, where they are read and shared by many. This program has been around for over 50 years, and has been serving some of the same readers for decades, as well as expanding to new institutions every year.
During lockdown, I switched to doing most tasks from home instead of in the program headquarters. In the first two years of the pandemic, I wrapped up and sent over 1,000 packages from my living room. There was something meditative about selecting books, writing invoices, and wrapping and addressing book packages, knowing that these gifts would be sent to people who were so isolated. Life in prison was always difficult, but it got worse during the early pandemic years. Covid was spreading like wildfire in institutions, so people were locked down in their cells for months, without access to the library, education programs, or visits. I appreciated having this concrete way of reaching out-from my small corner of the world to theirs. It was deeply meaningful, an act of solidarity and connection during a stressful and isolating time.
During that time, I wanted to be more intentional about connecting spiritually with the people I was serving. I would light a candle in the evening and write down the names of the people I chose books for that day. Then I would say a prayer for each person by name, gently touching their package of books. It helped me center myself and focus on the recipients, instead of doing the tasks thoughtlessly. People often say that the books are a light in the darkness for them, so I would look at the flame and send them that light in my mind.
I started with this program because of the books and I stayed because of the stories of incarcerated people. It turns out that the books are not as important as what a gift from our program represents. What matters the most to me is showing someone that they are worthy of kindness, that they aren’t alone or forgotten. Prison is an incredibly isolating, violent and hopeless place. So when someone receives mail, with books in the subject that they wanted, along with a hand-written note, they know that we took the time to read and respond personally to their request. I’ll let the incarcerated recipients share in their own words how that feels:
Richard: “You have helped me to see and know the good in the world and understand that there is good inside of me and that I have value. I am not worthless.”
Andrew: “For someone to be so kind to provide free books to us who are incarcerated, means the world to us. When these books are shared with me, it gives an impression that somebody cares about me. I consider it a gift from God. Thank you so much for this blessing.”
Kyle: “It means a great deal to receive something like this from a complete stranger. Your books came along as a welcome pick-me-up and validation of my worth as a human being.”
Those thank you letters make me tear up. I see God’s presence in the dedication of the volunteers, the generosity of donors, and in the hand-written notes from the people we serve. I love the feeling of searching out and finding the perfect book for someone in their chosen subject. For instance, Charles wrote to request a specific Bible translation. He shared that he had prayed about it, and when he was reading a Christian magazine, our book program’s address, handwritten on a slip of paper, fell out of the magazine on to his lap. He decided that God was sending a sign that he should write to us. I added the Bible to our wish list, with a note that said “special request for Charles.” Before long, someone purchased the Bible and it arrived with a gift receipt from the donor. It said, “Charles, brother, I hope you enjoy your gift. I felt like the Lord wanted me to get this for you. Peace and Blessings.” That story gives me chills. I love how the little coincidences lined up to deliver the exact book he was searching for.
On a less serious note, I recently won a paperback copy of a YA lesbian romance called The Ghost of Us from Goodreads. This isn’t my usual genre, so I wasn’t sure why I won it. Two days later, I had a request from someone in prison asking for lesbian romances and ghost stories! I had the perfect book to send. Things like that happen often enough that I don’t question it anymore-it was meant to be. Sometimes the Divine shows up in a free book about ghosts.
In her book The Newcomers, about resettled refugees, Helen Thorpe writes: “To live in comfort in the developed world and ignore the suffering of strangers was to turn away from one’s own humanity.” She describes the people who teach and interact with refugees as “finding a kind of salvation” and “their humanity.” She writes that the refugees “opened us up emotionally to the joy of interconnectedness with the rest of the world.” I feel that way about the incarcerated readers, and the gift of their trust. There is something unique about the connection you feel when you hold someone’s letter in your hands, knowing that they held this same piece of paper.
There are people in prison whose stories I remember, that I carry in my heart even years later. I think these stories reflect the depth of the connections that incarcerated readers form with our program. My friend Lee shared: “Each letter feels precious, as if I am being entrusted with a chance, I could even say a sacred chance, to make a difference in someone’s life.”
I feel grounded by my work with the prison program-it gives my life purpose and meaning. It was also the catalyst for a journey of learning more about racial and social justice and trying to align my life to my values. I believe so deeply in the importance of showing up for one another and standing with those on the margins. Also, there’s just such joy in getting to share books-that always delights me.
My grandparents love hearing about the prison program, and it turns out that I’m following in the footsteps of my paternal great-grandma, who volunteered in a county jail library in Spokane, WA in the early 1970s. I didn’t know this until a few years after I got involved with this program. I feel connected to this member of my family who I never had a chance to meet, and I hope she would be pleased to know how her legacy lives on. I see that connection as another way that God’s hand is visible in the story of my life.
Katie Vhay is a joy-seeker, activist, writer and community member living with chronic illness and disability. She loves books, knitting, baking, and working for a more inclusive society. She lives with her family near the ocean in New England. Connect with Katie via Instagram or her brand-new Substack.
To support the Prison Book Program, you can visit their website, follow them on Instagram, and/or buy a book from one of their wishlists.
Thank you Katie and Nishta!