The Pickle Man

By Jennifer Thomsen

When I was growing up, my family always visited with people from our church after the Sunday evening service. We never had elaborate meals—normally leftovers or sandwiches—but I have fond memories of those times. As kids, we enjoyed playing hide and seek and capture the flag, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and sharing lots of popcorn.

During this time, my mom purchased a pickle holder from Tupperware. It was green, square, and had a handle on top. The pickle container fascinated me, and I don’t even like pickles. One Sunday evening, I was in the kitchen playing with the pickle container, when Terry Austin walked into the kitchen. The Austins were among the families that came to our house on a regular basis. Terry sat down beside me and started playing with the pickle container.

Before long, we were talking to the pickles, pulling them out of the juice to “give them air.” From that moment forward, every time the Austins came over, Terry and I gave the pickles air. I dubbed him, “The Pickle Man.”

Fast-forward 30 years, to the 2012 National Convention in Memphis, Tennessee. I had been working at a doctor’s office and left the convention early to train a new employee. The phone at my desk rang, and the caller ID indicated my husband’s cell phone. I answered the phone, but it wasn’t my husband. To my horror, I heard a gruff voice say, “Check his pockets again. I found a cell phone; he has to have a wallet…”

As you might imagine, I demanded, “Who is this, and why do you have my husband’s cell phone?”

My voice must have been tinged with hysteria, because all of my coworkers came rushing to my side. Suddenly, in the background, I heard my husband say, “Thanks a lot, Terry…I’m not really dead, but she is going to kill me.”

My heart stopped beating like a jackhammer, because I realized someone was playing a joke on me…that crazy Pickle Man.

During the 30 intervening years, my family and the Austins remained in contact. As pastors, Terry and my dad shared burdens with one another, encouraged each other, and even filled in for one another when needed.

When Terry served a tour of duty in the first Gulf War, we sent him packages. From time to time, when he was back in the States, we would meet for dinner at Cracker Barrel. Over the years, the table gradually filled with adult children, their spouses, and eventually grandchildren.

It is amazing how Christian friendships stand the test of time. I am so glad the Pickle Man became my dad’s best friend in college, and that their friendship has remained intact over the years. Who could have guessed that the goofy guy who took time to help a young girl “give pickles air” would someday become the highest-ranking Free Will Baptist chaplain, a Colonel in the U.S. Army. Way to go, Pickle Man!

About the Writer: Jennifer Thomsen has worked with Free Will Baptist International Missions since August 2012. She and her husband Eric attend Bethel FWB Church in Chapmansboro, Tennessee, and have one daughter, Victoria. Jennifer enjoys baking (without pickles) and exploring new places.