May 28, 2026

10 months feels like a long time. It’s enough time (for some BYU kids) to meet someone and get married, to lose weight, to take 30 credits worth of classes, or to become more proficient in a language. It’s enough time to build connections and make new friends, or know your way around a city by heart. It’s enough time to be missed when you leave.

Although this time has often felt like the longest ten months of my life, my Fulbright has lasted less than a year. How can something relatively short be so meaningful? One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is that often the things that are the most meaningful don’t last forever, and sometimes that’s on purpose. 

This idea is one I’ve battled with many times throughout my life. Whether it be with dating, academic experiences, or even my journey in medicine, I’ve continually come back to it. In my 20s, there has always seemed to be this lingering question of “is it worth it” or “will it last?” Looking back, not much at this point in my life has lasted. I’ve built communities that I eventually had to leave, formed relationships that were no longer healthy, made friendships that I outgrew. These situations in life have always been profoundly painful for me, and not just because I am averse to change, but also because at this stage of my life I feel like everything should last. And maybe that is just what being in your 20s is like; some things last and some things don’t. 

But, as a relatively faithful person I’d like to think that God designs moments to be fleeting and meaningful for a purpose. That maybe he knows how, as humans, we only realize the true value of something after it’s gone. I never expected my fleeting moments in Kyrgyzstan to look like eating freshly baked lepeshka with my friends, or locking eyes with a stranger who becomes someone you deeply love. The look on a local’s face when I use my horrible Russian, or when my student uses a word I taught them (they’ve been saying “slay” a lot recently). This week, my fleeting moment was finishing the last of the banana bread that I made in my post-soviet oven. 

This experience has changed my perspective in many ways, but I think it’s helped me to see things that I once viewed as fickle, now as something precious and rare. Although it can be frustrating to watch things come and go in my life, I’ve truly tried to view each moment as a memory, and savor it while I’m living it. That’s definitely easier said than done, and not every moment is one I want to savor, but I’ve tried to take that in stride and keep moving forward. True to the theme of this blog post, I’m keeping it short this month, but I want to close with something a friend of mine texted me. They said “it’s just life, life is too short to not be for people.” Experiencing these moments has helped me to be more “for people,” and that’s something I am so grateful for. I’m thinking about all of you everyday, and looking forward to seeing you soon!

Oh, and I still haven’t eaten horse. 8.5 months down, 1.5 to go. Until next month.

-B

 The works of art aforementioned, but I had to put them here. I took an art history class my last semester of college and absolutely fell in love with art! I think one reason I love medicine is because it feels like solving a mystery or a puzzle, and to me, art feels similar.

Aizhamal and I took our students to Kegete Gorge as an end of the year celebration. We cooked a type of Kyrgyz stew that has meat, potatoes, cabbage, and vegetables (the basis of almost every amazing dish here). Hanging out with my students was awesome, because I got to know them so much better! I love hearing about their families and passions outside of school :) I'm consistently impressed with their English skills, they've truly grown so much this year.