Susan Classen and her companions struggle toward safety through bullets and bombs, then-- ""Just before Guarjila we passed a dozen vultures. I noticed them from far off and was afraid we would find another cadaver in the road. . . . As we drew near, the vultures reluctantly flew to a nearby fence; I realized hundreds of yellow and white butterflies danced in that same area. We passed through their graceful flight."" Classen shares her search for meaning...