I used to think I had it all together. As a man who spent 35 years in the swine business, I prided myself on being in control—of my life, my family, everything. I was raised to believe showing emotion was a sign of weakness, so I buried my feelings deep. But then came the “life bombs.” One day, I got a phone call with the worst news imaginable. I broke down. Me—the man who doesn’t cry, who breaks his foot and can’t remember how—completely fell apart.

I was in the pharmacy, paying for my medicine, tears streaming down my face. I wanted the cashier to ask, “Are you okay?” but she didn’t. I hobbled to my car and exploded into a fit of tears, barely able to breathe or see. I thought I might die. I drove to my pastor’s house, but he wasn’t home. I tried the church—no one was there. I called his cell, left a barely coherent message, and kept hoping someone would ask, “Are you okay?” But no one did.

In that moment of utter brokenness, I dialed the prayer phone to God. And you know what? I got through without any effort. I poured out my heart, begging Him to take away the pain. He told me, “Come to Me first, My child.” I cried harder, and then I heard, “A little while longer, My child.” I can’t fully describe it, but I felt Him hold me. Like the father in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, He ran down the street to meet me (Luke 15:11-32). For the first time, I—a man who grew up without many hugs from my daddy—felt the tender embrace of my Heavenly Father.

Reflecting on that moment, I realized how often I’d let distractions keep me from God. It reminds me of a silly struggle I had with my old cordless phone. The battery kept dying, probably because I was too lazy to put it back on its base. I dug out an old manual phone—you know, the kind where you have to stand up to answer—and realized I couldn’t just leave it off the hook or it would start beeping loudly until I hung it up properly. I thought, “Wow, I’m being trained to put a phone back!” But I needed a phone splitter to use both phones, so I searched my kitchen junk drawer.

That drawer was a mess! I had to slam it a few times, break some pencils, and wedge something in to open it. When I finally got it open, I scattered everything on the counter—dead AA batteries (which I jokingly thought about putting in the freezer), random junk, you name it. I got so caught up in “What’s in my junk drawer?” that I forgot what I was looking for. I even forgot about the phone altogether.

That junk drawer is a lot like life. We get so consumed with the clutter—our worries, pride, or illusions of control—that we lose focus on what matters. I thought I was putting my hope in God, but I was too proud to truly surrender. It wasn’t until I lost all control that I could give Him my trust and devotion, just like the prodigal son returning to his father’s open arms (Luke 15:11-32).

Through this journey, I learned a life-changing lesson from Dr. Charles Stanley about handling burdens:

1. Tell God what your burden is. Be honest with Him about your pain.

2. Give your burden to Him. Release control and trust Him to handle it.

3. Move your focus from your burden to the Burden Bearer. Stop obsessing over the problem and focus on God’s love and power (Matthew 11:28-30).

It’s so easy to get distracted by the junk in the drawer, but true peace comes when we put all our focus, love, and trust in His hands. Jesus says, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). He’s waiting to take your pain and heal your suffering, but you must reach out for His hand.

If you’re struggling like I was, I pray you’ll close that junk drawer and answer the phone. Your Heavenly Father is waiting with open ears and open arms. Don’t let the clutter of life keep you from the One who can carry your burdens and give you peace.