Flex or die. Missionaries Mike and Kathy Uno dubbed this the family motto when they moved to Hungary in 1981. Six-year-old Abbie flexed well. Within six months, the bubbly little girl's grasp of Hungarian helped her excel in school and make many friends.

     Seven years later, Abbie survived a rougher transition to Germany by clinging to her family and applying the motto.

     When she moved back to America for college, however, Abbie put that motto to its most severe test.

     Although she'd lived in Texas until age 5 and returned to the States every couple of years to see relatives, Abbie felt more comfortable in Europe than in America. She selected Indiana University because of its reputation in linguistics and proximity to relatives. Once there, she knew what to do: observe the new culture to learn the ropes, mull it over and choose how to respond.

     Abbie soon realized she was over-prepared academically. "When I had to take freshman comp," she says, "I thought, I should be teaching this class."

     Relationships posed a greater challenge. Abbie felt uncomfortable making friends with Americans, some of whom labeled her a snob for speaking four languages.

     "I learned quickly that it was up to me how people responded to my growing up in Europe," says Abbie. "Since it's not normal to speak several languages, I skirted the subject as much as possible."

     Abbie's struggle with readjusting to American culture is not unique. In fact, only 7 percent of third-culture kids report feeling "at home" with their peers in the United States, while 74 percent say they feel most comfortable with people who have lived abroad. Differences confront them at every turn.

     In Germany, for example, Abbie learned to speak only to those she knew well and had gained her confidence. But in America people in her dorm left their doors open, and when someone she barely knew popped in to chat, she thought, What are you doing? This is my private space.

     Although the relational differences challenged her, Abbie believed she'd adjusted well to her new surroundings and looked forward to stability in her sophomore year. Instead, circumstances left her reeling.

     The Bible study Abbie attended fizzled. She and her best friend from Germany gradually quit all communication over some misunderstandings. Her only close Christian friend at IU confessed she was bulimic. And to top it off, her church split.

     Like a turtle tucking its head into its shell for protection, Abbie withdrew. Her father and mother, now living in Romania, sensed her struggle. "Abbie's transition affected us every day," says Kathy Uno. "We prayed for her and wished we could be there to offer comfort and assist in the sorting-out process. We wrote, we phoned, we asked our friends to pray. God confirmed clearly, over and over, that we were to stay in Romania, that He was in control stateside. But it was not easy."

     Abbie felt the distance as well. "When you're this far away from home," says Abbie, "it's hard to let your parents know you're not OK. I didn't want them to feel sorry for me, and I felt pressure because my brothers were living triumphant lives. So I let these feelings join the caldron of festering anger.

     "I eventually became so angry that I wasn't willing to talk to anybody," confesses Abbie. "I felt that the moment I let someone in, God would take them away. I didn't want to risk being hurt again."

     After struggling for more than a year, and nearly dying emotionally, Abbie decided to flex. Slowly the junior stuck her head out of her shell. "I began to open up my life to the possibility that God might really be in control," says Abbie.

     She finally confided in her family, started attending church again and found an accountability partner. Abbie and her best friend ironed out their misunderstandings and rekindled their friendship. Abbie opened up to her bulimic friend. And when a linguistics professor took an interest in her background, Abbie didn't avoid talking about her love for languages. In fact, she tackled another one--Japanese.

     Abbie's now a senior and, like many missionary kids, wants to work overseas--probably teaching English as a second language. But Abbie's gaining more than just language skills to pass along. She's learning from experience that flexibility involves sticking your neck out. And she'd rather flex than die.