A mother took in five Black boys as her own 27 years ago. She was shocked by what they did years later!
Mon, Georgia — When Gloria Simmons was only 35, things got worse for her. Her husband left her a letter on the kitchen counter after five years of marriage and many failed attempts to get pregnant. It said, “You’re not the woman I thought I would have a family with.”
He didn’t even say goodbye in person. Gloria’s dreams of being a mother appeared to fade away in an instant.
She had been getting ready for the family she wanted her whole life. She kept track of her cycles, took hormone therapies that made her sick and kept her up at night, and clung on to hope every month. I felt like I had failed every time I got a negative pregnancy test.
Friends were very careful around her, and church members said they were sorry, but it felt more like pity. A few people said, “You’re still young.” “God has a plan,” some others murmured, as if that would make the suffering go away.
But Gloria wasn’t only upset about not having a child; she was also sad about the future she had planned for herself, a future that biology, betrayal, and time had taken away.
After the divorce, she moved back into her grandmother’s small house in Mon, Georgia. She was a librarian on the side and lived a quiet life, mostly out of sight.
She worked in her grandmother’s garden on the weekends, and on lonely nights, she sat with a blanket over her lap and asked God to tell her why she wasn’t good enough. Everything changed on a gloomy Wednesday in 1997.
gach Gloria went to the county courthouse to fill out paperwork so she could help with a program that teaches people how to read and write. She heard a social worker talking about a terrible situation as she walked past the clerk’s window. Five newborn Black boys were found together in a cardboard box outside a church in the country.
There were no names or parents, just a note that stated, “Please forgive me.” I can’t give them what they desire. The social worker remarked, “They are healthy, but we need to keep them apart.” No one is ready to take all five.
Gloria stepped up without thinking. “I’ll take them,” she said. The woman looked up in shock. “Excuse me?” “I want them.” I want all five of them. The social worker blinked.
“Ma’am, are you married?” Do you have any children? “No,” Gloria responded quietly, “but I have love.” And that’s more than they’ve had so far.
There was a lot of paperwork, background checks, interviews, and doubt after that. “She can’t raise five kids by herself,” someone muttered in low voices.
Because she’s Caucasian, the babies should grow up in their own culture. She probably just wants others to pay attention to her. But Gloria didn’t stop. She passed all the tests, attended to all the parenting classes, and converted her little house into a nursery with secondhand cribs and homemade quilts.
She hugged each of the small, warm boys who were blinking up at her and telling her stories she couldn’t understand. She called them Caleb, Elijah, Aaron, Micah, and Tobias. She rocked them to sleep every night, fed them every two hours, and sang hymns to them when they cried. She didn’t sleep for weeks, but she didn’t tell anyone. For the first time in her life, her home wasn’t quiet. It was real.
It was hard to raise five boys. At the grocery store, people stared at Gloria and asked her questions in a whisper at the doctor’s office. They also thought she was a nanny instead of a mother.
Some of her white friends stopped talking to her, and a lot of Black families were suspicious of her. But Gloria never said she was their savior. She looked for Black mentors, enrolled her sons up for cultural education classes, and made sure they knew where they came from. She told them the truth every year on their birthday: “You were left at a church, but people never forgot you.”
There wasn’t a lot of money. At night, Gloria worked as a seamstress. She sold her car and walked to the library with a stroller that looked like a parade. When her water heater broke one winter, she heated pots on the stove to give the boys baths.
She couldn’t afford to go on vacation, but every Saturday was a “adventure day.” She would take a blanket and a lot of books to the library, the park, or the backyard.
The lads grew up, and so did the troubles. Micah got asthma and had to go to the hospital twice in one year. Aaron had trouble reading. Elijah started fighting at school when kids called Gloria names.
“Why don’t we look like you?” Caleb once inquired. Gloria cried for hours that night. The next day, she read them stories about who they are, their families, and how they are different. She taught kids that love wasn’t based on race.
By the time they were ten, the boys were robust, full of life, and couldn’t be separated. People stopped seeing them as lost youngsters and started seeing them as smart young men. Gloria was still tired and broke, but she realized she hadn’t just created a house; she had built something sacred.
Years passed. The lads got older and relocated to different parts of the country. Caleb went to Washington, D.C.; Elijah went to New York; Aaron and Micah went to Atlanta; and Tobias went to California.
Still, they all came home for Gloria’s 62nd birthday. The house felt full again, like when they were youngsters and fought over the last piece of cornbread.
“Sit down, Mom,” Caleb remarked as he drew out her chair. “Let us help you for once,” Elijah urged, already in the kitchen with oven mitts on. Gloria smiled and put her hand on her heart. They were no longer boys; they were men. They all had her heart, but each had a different voice and route.
After dinner, they turned off the lights and brought in a little TV. Gloria asked, “What is this?” Tobias said, “Just watch.” The television showed a photo of Gloria from a long time ago. She was smiling brightly and holding five babies. Her hair was pulled back.
“One woman made a choice that saved five lives 27 years ago,” a voiceover said. The length of the movie was sixteen minutes. There were clips from their childhood, old VHS recordings, Caleb telling a story, Micah reading an essay he wrote as a child, Aaron talking about how hard it was for him to read, Elijah remembering how he defended her name, and Tobias playing the piano in the background.
The closing sight was a drone shot of a modern three-story brick building with a sign that proclaimed, “The Gloria Simmons Academy for Forgotten Boys Made Whole.”
Gloria gasped. She said, “What is this?” in a low voice. Micah said softly, “It’s yours, Mom,” and put his hand on hers. “You did this.” Caleb said, “We all did.”
They told her that it took them three years to build the academy, employing Caleb’s legal expertise, Elijah’s ability to raise money, Aaron’s ability to mentor, Micah’s degree in education, and Tobias’s artistic talent.
They bought land in Mon, recruited people, got money, and built it with her in mind. There were dorms that looked like their childhood bedrooms, a library, adventure days on Saturdays, and a vegetable garden.
Elijah said, “We’ve already welcomed our first 18 students, and the waiting list is getting longer.” Gloria wailed softly, and her shoulders shook. “We did it for you,” Aaron said.
“Because you always believed in us.” Tobias knelt down next to her and put the academy’s badge on her shirt. “You are the founder in spirit, heart, and everything.”
The next weekend, they took her to college. A dozen little boys ran out onto the lawn, and staff workers lined up to greet her. One of them, who didn’t have any front teeth, wrapped his arms around her legs.
“Are you the lady from the movie?” he asked. Gloria knelt down. “I guess so.” “Then this is your house, right?” “No, honey,” she said in a quiet voice. “Yours.”
In every hallway, there was a framed quote from her work that said, “You don’t have to look like me to be mine.” “Love is stronger than blood.” “Family is the choice that changes everything.” There was a figure of Gloria made of bronze in the entrance. She had her arms out and five little guys close to her.
The news in her area called her a living legend. Gloria, on the other hand, spent her days reading to the kids, making breakfast, and offering extra desserts to those who needed a little more hope.
She told her sons one night when they were sitting on the porch, “You boys were the best thing I ever did.” Micah shook his head. “No, Mom.” You were the nicest thing that ever happened to us.
She laughed softly. “Maybe,” she said. “But look at what we made.” Gloria Simmons ultimately found peace in the home her love had made, with the sounds of her legacy all about her and the stars shining down on her.