By Vanessa Rasanen That drive to church might have been the hardest I had ever made — and I’ve made plenty of white-knuckled, stress-filled, holy-moly-please-be-quiet-or-I’m-going-to-lose-it Sunday morning drives with my four littles. That particular weekday afternoon, though, I was headed to our near-empty church to meet with my pastor in the sanctuary for private confession and absolution. While I’ve often encouraged friends to seek this out for themselves, and I have openly confessed this pastoral service to be a blessed gift, truth is I was downright scared to do it myself. I had actually been considering making it a regular practice. After all, there’s no reason you need to have…