A GPS never gets angry at a wrong turn.
It doesn’t pause to lecture you about the missed exit, doesn’t replay the mistake, doesn’t make you sit in the consequence before it helps you again. It simply says one word — recalculating — and starts drawing a new route from exactly where you are.
Not from where you should have been. From where you actually are.
This is closer to how Grace operates than most of the language used to describe it. Grace is not a single rescue that happens once, after which you’re expected to never need it again. It is a continuous recalculation, available at every wrong turn, with no cap on how many times it can be applied to the same journey.
The mind that learns to live this way starts to relax in a particular spot — the spot most people hold tense, bracing for judgment. There is no judgment in the system. There is only the next route.
This doesn’t mean the wrong turns don’t matter, or that direction is irrelevant. It means the thing guiding you is not interested in cataloguing your failures. It’s interested in getting you there — wherever there now is, given where you currently stand.
You are not being tracked so you can be punished. You are being tracked so you can be found.
Wherever you are right now is a valid place to begin recalculating from.
That’s the whole mechanism. That’s the whole mercy.