And on the eighth day, God looked down on His planned paradise
and said, “I need someone willing to clean up what everyone else takes for granted.”
So God made a pumper.
God said, “I need somebody willing to rise before dawn, fire up a diesel,
drive two hours to a job that smells worse than sin,
work all day knee-deep in mud — and worse —
then roll back home long after dark only to get up and do it again.”
So God made a pumper.
I need somebody with hands strong enough to wrangle a 4-inch hose,
and yet gentle enough to pat a customer’s old dog on the head.
Somebody to crawl under trucks, patch leaks,
and rebuild a pump with nothing but duct-tape grip and prayer.
So God made a pumper.
God said, “I need somebody willing to miss supper because the line backed up again,
to answer a call at midnight because the restaurant’s overflowing,
and still show up to church Sunday morning with diesel on his boots and a smile on his face.”
So God made a pumper.
I need somebody who can read the sound of a pump by ear,
feel a clog through the hose,
and know just how far he can back that truck before he’s buried to the axles.
Somebody who can fix a broken fitting with a crescent wrench,
a piece of wire, and pure determination.
So God made a pumper.
God had to have somebody willing to brave the cold, wind, and summer heat,
to wade through the thick of it so others can live clean.
Somebody who sees the worst of what people flush away
and still takes pride in making it right.
So God made a pumper.
It had to be somebody who could handle gallons and grit, pressure and patience,
and still find time to wave to a kid on the roadside
who thinks that big, shiny truck is the coolest thing he’s ever seen.
Somebody who’d fix what’s broken, keep things flowing,
and make sure the world keeps turning — one tank at a time.
Somebody who’d laugh, then sigh, and then nod with quiet pride
when his son says he wants to spend his life doing what Dad does.
So God made a pumper.
By Riley Reed