A ruin counted as final evidence becomes a fence, and most people never test whether the horizon is farther out.
Every reference a person collects gets filed as proof of something, and a season of loss files fast: the certainty hardens, the state drops to resignation, and resignation stops a person from attempting the one thing that would gather different references.
Yahweh reopening the ledger after the accounting looked closed proves the count was never the whole territory. The thousands get tallied out because a man rebuilding needs references as solid as the ones ruin handed him, and they arrive in a form no one around him can dispute. A man who lets his hardest years stand as the ruling on his capacity will defend that ruling for decades without once testing it, and every choice he makes after is sized to fit it.