Why does the male moth get all the colors?

Floating with my husband in the community pool at midnight, I'm captivated by a large brown moth carving measured patterns in the air above us. Closer and closer she dances towards us, trying to sneak past our mysterious forms to the beautiful warm glow that is the underwater pool lighting. I can almost envision the grin on her tiny triumphant face as she finally comes close enough to dive towards her goal. "What a clever moth I am!" I mock aloud as we bear witness to her almost victory. WHAM! The impact our ears cannot hear rocks her small body and now I can see the panic, the terror as she flaps and splutters in the deadly monsoon sized ripples our bodies have made. Not willing to watch her drown I grab my rescue apparatus, an abandoned pair of goggles, and compassionately fish her out. What a joy, what a sweet and simple relief to see her gradually dry her wings and take flight again above us! I love watching her in these slow hypnotic patterns, in WHAM! She's in the pool again! Struggling now not only against the waters heavy soaking weight, but also exhausted from her recent brawl with this same enemy. A bit amused, I lift her to safety once again, this time much further away from the irresistibly wet grave she so obviously craves. An hour later, as I'm dragging my endearingly "child-at-heart" husband from the pool, I spot my moth. "This is how you thank me!?" Huffy and annoyed I walk away from the doomed creature who apparently will not learn self preservation skills even in the face of certain death. My husband laughs at my pouting and cannot understand my frustration. "Over a moth? Why is it such a tragedy to lose one when there are a million others just alike?" Much later, as I collapse gratefully into bed, into my loving husband's waiting arms, it occurs to me that I'm the insignificant moth who might never learn. I'm the silly moth Lord, and you're my patient savior. There are trillions others just like me, many who could do my job, who could rent my apartment, who could walk my dog. There are even a few who could love my husband and a few more who could complete my family. Although I'm one of many, a grain of sand on the beach, you love me enough to know why I'm worth saving again and again and again. How grateful am I that the one God sent to rescue me from sin and death is not as easily thwarted as me, but forever powerful, forever merciful, forever in love with me. Today I praise God for his patience, without which I would be a thing marked for death, a woman awaiting my turn to drown.