I felt like I was back in Seattle.

Rain poured down, canceling the Swiss Days parade in which my daughters were supposed to perform. By afternoon, clouds that had emptied themselves on the town were large enough to cover the sun, providing a much needed break from the heat.

I changed into my sweatshirt and watched five epsides of The Middle with my kids. Sometimes the days filled with no plans end up being those I remember most. A week ago we were making our way around a mall in Las Vegas, and I wondered what I was doing living in a desert.

Or more specifically, what am I doing living in Utah, surrounded by people with very different beliefs than mine. Nobody in Seattle really cared what church I belonged to or if I attended church. When lived on Capitol Hill, I met a few people who had started their own church. Anything goes in Seattle.

Utah is a lot more homogenous. But the kids are thriving here. They have made many friends and are doing well in school. There’s no way I could pull them out of school now just because I’d like to live elsewhere. Maybe down the road, but not now.

Although I have no doubts about my decision, I’m learning to be less combative and angry with those who now feel I’m a lost soul. I’m learning to be thankful and celebrate those friendships that didn’t change when my beliefs did.

This past week a relative reached out to me. She said she supported my decision and called me courageous. She doesn’t realize how much those few words mean to me. Maybe she will now.

There’s been a video going around on Facebook recently that shows some beagles being released outside to run around a grassy yard. The dogs had been used for animal testing since birth, and had spent their lives in cages. Their joy was unmistakable as they ran around the yard, stopping only briefly to share their excitement with a fellow dog pals.

I can relate to those beagles and the freedoms they now enjoy

For over 40 years, I’ve allowed someone else to tell me what is and isn’t permissible, down to my thoughts, actions, and words. Then there’s a number of inside baseball rules I was expected to follow that included selecting the appropriate color (white) of church shirt. Before long you have a group of people who begin to behave and sound the same.

This level of control works for many. There’s safety in rules and structure. Keep these rules and you can expect these blessings. And if the blessing don’t come, it’s because you didn’t have enough faith.

Instead of looking to others for how I should act I’m using my own mind, and it’s working out surprisingly well. I’m not afraid to try new things, and explore subjects I was told for decades to avoid. I feel like those beagles whose world has expanded from a tiny cage to a large field of lush green grass, ready to be explored.

Some people call what I’m going through a faith crisis. But I’d call it a clarity of faith. The more I research, the more I realize how much I was living someone else’s life. It’s never too late to begin living your own life.

There’s no going back in the cage.

I enjoyed John Dehlin’s balanced presentation in tackling a difficult subject of why Mormons leave their church.