Signs of the kingdom in fragments of a broken story

I found myself having a surprising conversation today - while supposedly learning how to use the database I ended up answering questions about the history, meaning and theology of the trinity via ideas about particle physics and the beauty of higher calculus. [I should say that all I know about higher calculus is the pleasure of occasionally getting the mental arithmatic right when I was a barmaid!]
Somewhere in the conversation I heard myself talking about how my faith makes sense to me not in terms of dogmas but a bit in the way of a story of hope, justice and love; a story the text of which is continually being torn up and scattered, rewritten and writen against - but a story which I still try to piece back together, make sense out of, on my own and with others; coping all the time with maybe only perceiving fragments of meaning.
I suppose this just shows that I really am a child of postmodernity - maybe my faith would not be able to cope with completeness of meaning, or perfect translation ...
However, I'd never made sense of my faith to myself in that way before. Although even now just a few hours later I don't quite remember what it was I was saying, I am so grateful to have been asked the question that led to these thoughts, to be able to tell my fragmented story in that way - for today.