Broken. But not really.

Today I was wrapping up a piano lesson with Lily when we heard a big crash in the family room.  It wasn't followed by screams or crying so I opted to finish the lesson before finding out the cause.  As it turns out, Rachel had knocked a picture of Jesus off the wall and had broken its frame beyond repair.  She and Eve had spent a few minutes trying to piece it back together before I discovered them.  The experience did the teaching, I didn't have to explain the error of Rachel's ways, she already felt terrible enough about it.  It was a tender moment though, as Rachel reflected, "Oh, I really liked this painting.  When I was sick a few weeks ago and laying on the couch, I would just stare at it,"
At this point, Eve interjected by saying, "and it made you feel better, huh?"  Rachel nodded.
I was so grateful to hear that my children know enough about the Savior and are developing enough of a relationship with Him that they could identify feelings of comfort derived just by looking at a painting of Him.  I was also thankful that I hadn't overreacted at the breaking of this fixture in our home, otherwise the mood surrounding the incident would have been altered completely, and the moment unrealized.  I don't always get this parenting thing right, but when I do...