Dipping the Quill Deeper: Returning to Your Olive Trees

by Eva Marie Everson @EversonAuthor

I met Miriam Feinberg Vamosh in 2002 when, as a journalist, I went to Israel for the first time. Miriam is a renowned author and tour guide, as well as an expert in archeology and heritage. Within my ten days there, she became my dear friend. 

In 2006, Miriam and I were contracted by Thomas Nelson to write a type of tour book/coffee table book on Israel—two women—one Jewish, one Christian—“walking” the land together. The book, Reflections of God’s Holy Land, which was a blessing to research and write, earned an ECPA silver medallion as well as several other awards. 

Then, in 2009, Miriam and I organized and led another group of journalists, making this my third trip to the Holy Land. After ten days, she and I said goodbye to those who’d come from the US with me, then drove to Nazareth where we spent the night at The Fauzi Azar, a 19th century mansion-turned-guesthouse built from stone and boasting hand-painted ceilings, marble floors, and limestone arches.

The following morning, after a delicious breakfast, Miriam and I set out on The Jesus Trail, a 40+-mile hiking trail in the Galilee that brings walkers of all ages and stages to important sites from the life of Jesus, along with a few other historical and religious sites. The trail begins in Nazareth then winds its way through the Galilee region, ending in Capernaum. Along the way, the trail is marked by painted rocks. The direction of the painted lines indicates which way to go—straight ahead, to the left, to the right. 

We were about midway through the day when we passed through an expansive olive grove, thick with trees, their silvery-green leaves shimmering in the sunlight. There, just off the pebbled and sandy path, a man stood beneath the branches of one of the trees where a large white sheet had been stretched around the trunk. The man held a long stick in his hand with which he beat the branches. All around him, dark green olives fell to the sheet. 

“Shalom,” Miriam called out.

“Shalom shalom,” he returned.

Miriam then asked him something in Hebrew and he replied, “Lo, lo.” (No, no.) And then he said a few lines more. Miriam turned to me. “He doesn’t speak English,” she said, “but he wants to tell us his story.”

For the next few minutes, I listened as these two Hebrew-speaking Israelis talked—mostly him with Miriam giving an occasional, “Ah.” Then Miriam turned and shared his story. It went something like this: This is my olive grove. I worked it for many years until I decided to start a new business. I owned mules that took tourists and locals from the base of Mount Arbel to the top and then back down again. I did this for a long time, all day, every day. Then one day I realized I was tired. Too many people. Too much work. Too many hours. So I closed down my service and returned to my olives.

I wanted to cry. This man, small and weathered, understood simplicity. Quiet. Peace. Doing what God called him to do rather than what a dollar bill enticed him to do. And within that simplicity and quiet and peace . . . was work. But is it work when you love it? Is it work when “these are my olives”?

Just last week I was asked the question we writers both love and hate, a question that reminded me of the man in the olive grove: do you have a contract you’re working under? 

My answer was, “No. I haven’t worked under contract for several years now.”

“But are you writing?”

“Absolutely. For the last few years, I’ve written on my own schedule, taking my time, working in the same way I did before I was offered my first contract.” 

There’s freedom in that and this is something I think—no, I know—we cannot fully appreciate when we are in the pre-first-contract stage. We’re so anxious to finish, to pitch, to sign on the dotted line . . . and then, often (hopefully), the contracts start rolling in. Now I know that sounds great, but there’s more work involved than simply signing on the dotted line and turning over a finished manuscript. 

When I’m asked, as a now-professional, what advice I would give to new writers (or to myself as a new writer), I always answer, “Enjoy the beginning. Enjoy the process.”

In other words, appreciate—and don’t forget—your time among the olives.

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Dipping the Quill Deeper: Returning to Your Olive Trees from @Everson_Author on @EdieMelson (Click to Tweet)

Eva Marie Everson is the CEO of Word Weavers International, the director of Florida Christian Writers Conference, and the contest director for the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference. She is the author of almost 50 books, both fiction and nonfiction. Her next novel, Beth Bettencourt, is set for release in 2026 (Kregel). To know more about Eva Marie (or to be added to her Southern newsletter), you can connect with her at www.EvaMarieEversonAuthor.com