The past couple of years, I’ve moved away from the LDS church. When I’m asked why, the short answer is that I feel a call to public ministry, and as a Mormon woman there aren’t many opportunities for that kind of thing.

But like most things, it’s more complex than that. In fact, in and of itself, a call to ministry probably wouldn’t have been enough to drive me from the church. I probably would have been content to find opportunities for service from within the tradition if things had been a little different. But over the past few years, I’ve felt increasing pressure to conform. Excommunications of friends and acquaintances who share similar perspectives to mine, policies that place heteronormativity ahead of the good news of the gospel of Christ, the requirement to go into a room with a stranger every couple of years and declare that I’m thinking the right thoughts and drinking the right beverage with my breakfast…it all became too much. Eventually, I ran out of breathing room. I decided to find another church home.

I’m very happy where I am, and I have no doubt I am following the path God has set out for me. I’ve enrolled in seminary and am pursuing my call to ministry. But here’s the thing: despite the stories you hear on Sundays, leaving the tradition of your birth is a singularly painful experience. It takes your entire world and flips it upside-down. My journey was an agonizing decade of tears, rejection, and pain. While I don’t regret my decision, I am certain I would have stayed if I’d found even the smallest amount of space at an institutional level.

Still, my husband and family remain active LDS, and I go to church with them every Sunday. The Relief Society president knows my story and embraces me with open arms. I am a visiting teacher and occasionally even teach Relief Society, where they assign me lessons about Christ–which is, of course, an area of profound commonality between us. It has been a moving experience to be so welcomed.

Today I had a conversation with the Relief Society president. We chatted about my schooling. I shared that I’m in deep discernment about whether to be a chaplain or a parish pastor, that I don’t know exactly where God will take me.

Her response was simple and kind. “I understand,” she said, “and I wish you all the best in your discernment process.”

I hung up the phone and took a moment to reflect. What a refreshing, generous response to difference. She didn’t try to convince me to return to orthodox Mormonism or testify to me. She held space for my journey. A thought occurred to me, almost startled me: if all Mormons were this way, there’s a very good chance I’d still be a Mormon today.

I believe that Mormonism is a good fit for many and that God calls people to be Mormon. I believe that in many instances, it’s better to stay if you can. And so I share this story for active Mormons who have friends and family members who are wrestling with difficult aspects of their LDS faith; for leaders who are concerned that people are leaving the church and are trying to figure out how to respond; for anyone who wonders what they can do to help people on the borderlands of Mormon culture, theology, and practice remain engaged.

Take it from someone who’s left:

They don’t need convincing. They don’t need rebukes. They don’t need discipline.

They need love and acceptance and just a little breathing room.