It was another scorching Sunday morning. The heat wave had settled over the Rhône Valley, and by the time I arrived at the Cathedral of Valence, I already knew it was going to be a warm morning. The night before, I searched for clothing that was light weight and breathable. The temperature outside the church is different from inside, so I will also need a small fan to cool myself.

I’ve always liked photographing inside churches. Maybe “like” isn’t the right word. I enjoy the challenge. Every church has its own personality, and every one asks something different from me as a photographer.

The Cathedral of Valence was no exception. Stepping inside was almost like stepping back in time. The walls carried years of history, the stone floors showed their age with uneven cracks and worn surfaces, and there wasn’t a hint of air conditioning to escape the summer heat. Even in the morning, the warmth lingered inside the cathedral.

The lighting, though… that’s where the fun begins. The cathedral was filled with warm yellow tungsten lights that gave everything an orange glow. It’s beautiful to experience in person, but it can be tricky to photograph. This is where I get excited. Setting up my lights, balancing the ambient light with my flashes, and preserving the atmosphere while keeping everyone’s skin tones natural is like solving a puzzle. Every venue teaches me something new, and I genuinely enjoy figuring it out.

I have to give a little shout-out to my husband. He never complains when I ask him to help carry light stands, flashes, and camera bags. Having an extra pair of hands makes such a difference, especially on warm days when the equipment feels twice as heavy. His help allows me to focus on what I love most—telling a family’s story.

This story belonged to little Anastasia. 

Around forty friends and family gathered to celebrate her baptism, and watching her throughout the ceremony was one of my favorite parts of the morning. She had this sweet little personality that quietly revealed itself through curious glances, tiny smiles, and peaceful moments in the arms of those who love her. Those are the moments I’m always searching for behind the camera. They aren’t posed—they simply happen.

One part of the ceremony especially stayed with me. After the parents received their blessing and prayer, a family friend stepped forward to sing Ave Maria. As soon as she began, the cathedral came alive. Her voice echoed beautifully through the old stone walls, filling every corner of the space. It was breathtaking. I remember getting chills as I stood there listening. For those few minutes, I wasn’t thinking about my camera settings or the next photograph—I was simply present, taking in the beauty of the moment alongside everyone else.

People sometimes ask if difficult lighting or uncomfortable weather makes photography less enjoyable.

For me, it doesn’t. Those little challenges become part of the experience. They push me to think creatively and remind me that every location has its own character. By the end of the ceremony, about an hour and a half later, I had forgotten about the heat. I was simply grateful to have witnessed another family’s special milestone.

As I packed away my cameras and lights, I couldn’t help but feel grateful to the everyone who trusts me with these special moments. Every baptism, birthday, or celebration is a chapter in someone’s life, and for a brief moment, I’m invited to witness it through my lens. 

Thank you, Nathan and family, for allowing me to preserve a small piece of your daughter’s story. Photography has introduced me to people I’ll probably never cross paths with again, yet for a brief moment, I’m invited into one of the most meaningful days of their lives.