Hog Wild

 

And to make all men see what is the fellowship of the mystery,

which from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God,

who created all things by Jesus Christ.

                                                                                    -- Ephesians 3:9

 

We have these friends. They seemed totally conventional, out here in suburbia. And then we heard about their first date.

 

It's a great Valentine's Day reminder that love really does triumph and God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes the Lord of Love uses some mighty unusual kindling to fan the flames of romance.

 

Mighty unusual.

 

See, our friend started off in life as an agricultural entrepreneur. He had a cow / calf operation and also raised 150 Yorkshire brood sows with some champion boars on 800 rolling acres in Iowa.

 

OK, OK. He was a pig farmer.

 

But he's a hunk and he cleans up nice. And somebody introduced him to her. They hit it off and made a date.

 

Now, she's a city girl, or as close to it as you can get out here in the sticks. She is the type who ''gets nails'' and is beautifully dressed, petite and feminine all the way.

 

He told her he was busy ''farrowing'' and asked her to come over to his place and they could go out on their date from there.

 

She wasn't entirely sure what ''farrowing'' meant, but thought it sounded very manly and hands-on and so forth, like digging "farrows" in the field in order to plant seeds. So she arrived in her flirty little tube top and white shorts with brand-spankin' new white clogs.

 

''Miss Prissy,'' he describes her now.

 

Well, he wasn't at the house, but the door to the outbuilding, which she later learned was the ''farrowing house,'' was wide open. So she went in.

 

It's not clear exactly why she shut her eyes. It might have been the blast of methane gas that erupted onto her hair, her clothes and her skin like a tidal wave of stinky.

 

Or it might have been the sight of her newfound flame . . . down on one knee with his arm all the way up a big, fat, huge mama pig's behind.

 

Love at first sight is not supposed to be like this.

 

Whatever made her close her eyes, they snapped back open as soon as she heard him ask her to come over and stick HER arm all the way up the big, fat, huge mama pig's behind.

 

''She's already had eight, but this one's breech and it has to be turned,'' he was shouting. ''My arm's too big. Will you come over here and do it?''

 

Standing there in her flirty little tube top and white shorts and brand new white clogs, she just stared at this strange man, her date. He was filthy, and he was kneeling near the manure pit up to his armpit in moanin', squealin' mama pig, and we're talkin' 500 pounds of moanin', squealin' mama pig.

 

She stood there, speechless and squinting in the methane cloud.

 

He saw that she was hesitating, so he smiled his manliest, most entrancing, most persuasive smile. ''I've got a glove you can wear!''

 

He's got . . . a GLOVE? As in . . . that would make it OK?!?

 

You know, I'd like to be able to report that she was overcome with love and devotion for him, heard bells, was struck in the heart by Cupid's arrow, et cetera, et cetera, so she ran right over there and did it.

 

But I believe her actual response was closer to what most of us females would have said:

 

''In a pig's eye, Buster!''

 

Another ending to the story might have him asking the sow to marry him. He was already down on one knee and was feeling very, very close to her, I'm sure. But that didn't happen, either.

   

What did happen is that our friend DIDN'T run out of there squealing like a . . . well, a . . . stuck pig. She stayed. He tried one more time to fix the breech and it worked. He finished farrowing all by himself, winding up with 14 nice piglets. Then he dashed inside, washed up, and left with the reluctant midwife out on their date, just a little late.

 

They had a wonderful time. I mean, they already had something to talk about. Sort of. Talk about an icebreaker.

 

But he didn't need to entertain her or impress her. She had already fallen head over heels in love with him. The pig stink and ridiculous position she'd seen him in didn't matter.

 

It was that smile.

 

That's all she saw.

 

That's all it took.

 

They were married shortly thereafter.

 

OK, you men: forget the red sports car. Forget the diamond bracelet. Forget the hours in the weight room and the tooth-whitening regimen. Forget all the things you think are your best shots at wooing the woman of your dreams.

 

I'm not saying you need to get up to your armpits in pig dip to get her attention. But I am saying the Lord works in mysterious ways.

 

And brother, when it comes to winning the one who's meant for you, relax. He's on your side . . . and He's got moves you've never dreamed of. †