They were born into a world that did not plan for them, but they chose to become men who plan for every child left out, proving that family is not blood, it is love put into action. They were born into chaos. Their mother was using crack and did not see a doctor until she went into labor. No one knew she was carrying twins. Davon arrived first, and the nurses found Tavon tucked under a rib. Each weighed about two pounds, small enough to fit together in a shoebox, and both tested positive for drugs. Child services stepped in right away. The twins lived in foster care until age two, while relatives fought to bring them home. In the end, they were adopted by the Woods family.
Adoption did not mean a happy ending. In that house, love was scarce. The boys were hit, yelled at, and silenced. No one said I love you. It felt like they were there for a paycheck. They were too young and scared to ask for help. With no answers about their past, they invented a story that their mom was white and lived in Alaska, because not knowing hurt too much. Pain piled up.
Davon tried to end his life more than once but could not bear the thought of leaving his brother alone. By eleven, they were smoking and drinking. By eighteen, they were selling drugs. Numbness was the goal. Anything to bury the hurt. Then came another blow. In 2016, their younger brother was shot and killed at seventeen. Grief pushed them to move to Georgia to start over, but the streets pulled them in again. They saw shootings up close. Guns were pointed at them. Survival felt like luck.
One day, their sister and brother-in-law invited them to church. They were about to smoke, but decided to go. That choice changed everything. Faith gave them direction and the sense that they were loved without condition. They walked away from the streets and began rebuilding. Davon says God filled the holes that had lived in their hearts for years and surrounded them with people who chose to be family. Davon worked job after job. He told them his story at a car dealership while selling a vehicle to the Wilkinson family. Tears, then an instant connection. For his birthday, they took him to dinner. After that, they brought him in as their own. Holidays. Family gatherings. Support. A mom and dad, siblings, and a niece. The white family he once imagined as a child became real, not because of blood but love. It taught him that family is not about color or shared DNA. It is about choosing one another.
With that foundation, Davon found purpose. He says, I used to sell dope, now I sell hope. He and Tavon want kids in the system to know they are beloved, not broken. They speak plainly about what it means to grow up without a family. No one to protect you. No one to speak up when you are abused or neglected. It is why so many kids in foster care are trafficked, jailed, or lost. Even in adulthood, the gaps remain—no parents on holiday. No one is cheering at your wedding, no grandparents for your children. No one ages out of the need for love.
So the brothers are building something bigger than a second chance. Their mission is to create the largest facility in the world for children in care, a place that feels like a true home. They want kids to be kids, heal, learn, and be safe. They refuse to accept a system where children disappear between the cracks. Their promise is simple and fierce. There is hope, and they will bring it by any righteous means necessary. From a shoebox-sized start to a life headlined by loss, the twins found a way through. Faith steadied them. The community adopted them. Love taught them who they are. Now they carry that love forward, so another child does not have to make up a family in their head just to survive.
