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Prayer for Handwritten Notes

My handwriting is pretty bad. For years I labored under the illusion that it once was clear and legible, possibly approaching lovely. I imagined it had become corrupted first by the rigors of taking notes in college lectures and later by the vagaries of aging—arthritis, carpal tunnel syndrome, or something along those lines. My illusion was shattered when I stumbled upon a report card from the third or fourth grade. In impeccable script, under Handwriting, Mrs. Carter, my teacher had penned “Needs work.” In other words, my handwriting was never good. And then it got worse. Before I retired from teaching, some of my students had trouble deciphering my notes on drafts of their essays. I joked

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